The Fifth Cup
by Diaspared
Summary: Shirou Emiya planned to be a hero. He didn't plan on summoning the partially amnesic spirit of King Arthur, thereby escaping death at the hands of a legendary enchantress. Now drafted to the fifth incarnation of a centuries old battle, Shirou and his servant must uncover the remnants of the fourth war, slay heroes of eld, confront the divine, and survive. AU, many new servants.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I don't own it. I don't really want it, either. Not a big fan of Nasu's version of Arthurian and Western myth, especially Arturia and her gender-swapped ilk.

* * *

"Trace on."

Shirou Emiya nocked the projected arrow in his bow, drew back the string, and let it fly. It thudded in the exact center of the target before dissipating into motes of brown light.

 _Hmm. Far too much distortion. Maybe a bit more prana this time?_ _I still haven't tried doubly amplifying the head while weakening the body._

"Trace on."

He felt a slight twinge as phantom pain echoed softly down his back, the result of four years of improper magecraft rearing its head once more. His hand heated slightly.

Another arrow appeared in his hands before making its way to the bowstring, the grooved wood warping slightly as the boy injected energy into it. Its tip gleamed, the reinforcement enhancing its optical properties. Shirou adjusted the weight of the bow to compensate for the imbalance in mass, then shot the arrow forward, hitting the bullseye. The wooden shaft splintered, but the arrowhead drove farther forward, punching a hole straight through the target.

"Well, that should be enough for today," he said to himself, exiting the archery club room to a disquieting silence. He looked to both sides, but the hallways were empty.

 _Everyone must have left early,_ he thought.

Shirou trod forward, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor.

 _I_ _hope that Taiga isn't also home early,_ he considered, the prospect of his self-proclaimed 'big sister' being forced to wait for food filling him with well-learned dread _. Still, maybe Sakura's around, and she can probably tame Taiga until I get back._

He put in his locker combination, 5-32-29, and grabbed his backpack. Shirou hefted it over a shoulder and slightly reinforced his legs to compensate for the added weight, taking pains to not damage the bow he already had clasped to his back.

 _I really don't want to think about Taiga would do if I ruined this bow, too_. _I'm already on my fifth in the last two years, and there are only so many times I can bribe her with desserts._

Sighing, he trudged past the gym, before stopping abruptly at a metallic scent in the air. _Is that...blood?,_ he thought, doubling back and looking into the gymnasium.

The gym was empty, as he'd expected, but the smell – _definitely blood_ – grew stronger as he proceeded inwards. All of the sporting equipment was set in the corner as usual, and the various mats and goals used by the indoor sports clubs had been placed to the side. He looked to the door to the coach's office before grimacing. The door had been torn into fifths by some sort of clawed beast, the scratches and tears in the door fragments coated in a dark red. Cautiously, Shirou poked his head in, and had to fight down his lunch.

"Oh god," he muttered.

A lump of bile made its way into his mouth as he viewed the remnants of his gym instructor. His name had been Shinsuke Kawasaki. He was a 38 year old retired baseball player, though he'd never managed to make it to the top leagues of his sport. He'd been gruff but pleasant, more than happy to tell tales of his time as a professional athlete. Shirou stepped out into the gym proper, took a deep but shaky breath, and returned to consider the body once more.

Mr. Kawasaki had been butchered, then dissected. Shirou's teacher's head had been split open, four long gashes down the front of his face serving to render the dead man nearly unrecognizable. His pants and legs had been torn in the same manner, and the boy saw the bloodstains in the fabric grow as he observed. It appeared that the animal that had broken down the door had subsequently killed the gym teacher. However, while undoubtedly horrifying, the claw marks were not what drew Shirou's attention and disgust.

The skin on the dead man's chest had been flayed off, and his heart and lungs had been removed. His ribcage had been split, likely by some manner of knife, but it seemed that its wielder was not especially adept at the deed: Shirou could see fragments of bone in the bloody red tissue surrounding the former location of the organs. He fought down the slowly growing numbness and took out his phone to try to call the police, but was forced to drop the device as something flew past his hand and embedded itself in the wall.

 _Is that a pen?,_ he wondered, quickly looking over the now stuck pen wriggling – _why was it wriggling_ , Shirou rapidly questioned – as it tried to escape the doorframe.

He reached for his lost phone, but was forced to abandon the attempt as the pen broke free, missing again. Shioru grabbed his phone and turned, pocketing it before jumping out of the office, quickly unlatching the bow from his back.

 _This is really, really bad_ , he thought. _This looks like some kind of ritual, which probably means magecraft._

Shirou slowly backed towards the gym entrance, drawing his bow as tinkling laughter filled the air. The sound was melodious but somehow cruel, a mocking tinge making its way into the sounds of merriment. From within the office stepped a figure, one that hadn't been there a second prior. She was beautiful,her pale complexion matched by a form-fitting black gown with white rabbit's fur at its edges, and her green eyes sparkled as she stepped forward, her long black hair glinting slightly in the increased light of the gymnasium proper. She twirled the pen that had attempted to impale itself in Shirou between her slender fingers, and a group of a dozen more writing utensils hovered behind her.

"Now who might you be, child?," the woman questioned, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Her voice was as lyrical as her laughter, and, like her merriment, her innocuous question was laced with mockery. Shirou was instantly put further on guard, preparing to project an arrow into his bow.

"What are you doing here? Who are you?," Shirou asked, not expecting an answer but stalling for time nonetheless. He continued his slow retreat to the gym doors.

The woman looked amused as she walked – _no, floated,_ Shirou realized, watching her form closely – towards him, her small army of pens trailing.

"Do you really think I'd answer that second question?," She smiled at him, attempting to gauge his reaction. "As for the first, what do you think I was doing?"

Shirou was still a few meters from the doors, but thought he'd be able to reach them in a second or two.

"So you killed that man?," He asked, already knowing the answer. _Another second...!_

"Of course I did," she replied, before she made a sudden motion with the hand not manipulating the pen. The opened doors behind him slammed shut. He started, but moved to aim the bow at her head, drawing back the string.

She smirked at him. "Did you think I'd let you leave after seeing this? I don't really _need_ your prana, but I could use more, and I'm at least supposed to keep this sort of thing secret."

She waved her arm lazily, and the pens she'd collected moved closer. Shirou began to sweat, rapidly coming up with and discarding plans for escape.

 _She probably doesn't realize that I'm also a magus_ , he thought, _which means I might be able to surprise or incapacitate her._ He held himself still, controlling his breathing and preparing for the strain to come.

"Now, hold still, and this won't hurt too much," the woman stated, preparing to shoot the pens like bullets at Shirou's form. As she began to fire, he muttered his trigger phrase.

"Trace on."

Immediately, a projected arrow was nocked in his bow, and was shot within milliseconds at her head. Fire screamed down his spine as he reinforced his legs and back, spinning and kicking the doors open before dashing out of the gym, his back pelted by the pens. Shirou kept his body reinforced as he ran, twisting through the corridors of the highschool as he sought the front exit. He heard a rush of air behind him and ducked, narrowly avoiding a desk sent flying over his head, then turned, catching sight of the double-glass doors of the school entrance.

As he heard something resembling a stampede behind him, he came to a quick decision. Shirou pumped more prana into reinforcing his body, his muscles screaming at him, and he reached the doors and jumped through, coming to a roll in the shattered glass. Before he could escape, he saw the woman once more, this time with a frightening scowl and various desks and chairs galloping behind her. She pointed her hand at him and said something in a language he didn't know. He tried to dodge, but was too slow to avoid the angry red dart aimed at his left arm.

Shirou grit his teeth and tried not to scream as his left shoulder was hit through by whatever the woman had sent at him, though it was his right shoulder that felt the impact and now sported a hole. It had gone straight through his reinforcement, confirming to him that he was utterly outmatched. Still, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Trace on!," he yelled.

He quickly grabbed his bow from his back, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and drew back the bowstring with the arrow he'd nocked. Shirou fired at the pen that came his way, his inhuman aim allowing him to knock it from the sky, before continuing to trade fire with the woman, striking her pens as they shot towards him. The exchange had only lasted five seconds, but Shirou could tell that he wasn't going to be able to continue much longer, primarily due to the herd of furniture charging at his position.

From behind him, he heard a feminine gasp, a rush of air, and, in front of him, saw something sparkling that hit the woman and exploded. Suddenly, the barrage stopped. The smoke from the explosion cleared to reveal the woman, still obviously angered, but no longer focused on him. Shirou turned slightly to see what was going on, then froze.

 _I don't believe it..._

Behind him stood Rin Tohsaka, the most popular girl in school, her pale right hand outstretched and containing three shining rubies. She was dressed in an immaculate red turtleneck and black skirt, and she had her dark hair done up in twin ponytails. In her other hand she clutched a brown sack, a short glimpse into its depths revealing an assortment of similarly glowing gems. As timely as Rin's actions were, however, the man stood next to her held greater interest to the male magus.

The man was dressed in tight-fitting black body armor, covered over by a deep red coat. His skin was tanned and his hair white, both almost but not quite resembling the effects of far too much exposure to the sun, and his grey eyes were tight in anger, whether at Shirou, Rin, or the woman before him a point unknown. However, it wasn't his appearance that drew Shirou's greatest interest, but the swords he held in his hands. One black and one white, the two were of Chinese design, crafted beautifully. _Their names are_ _Kanshou and Bakuya_ , thought Shirou. _Why do I know that?_

To Shirou's relief, the strange weapons were pointed not at him but at the woman who had been attacking him. Focusing his attention on the woman once more, he noticed that her horde of furniture had stopped. She had an ugly twist to her lips, but seemed to be keeping herself under control.

"What do you think you're doing?!," she yelled at the two interlopers. "I'm trying to silence a witness to the grail war!"

"I'm stopping you from murdering an innocent student," Rin calmly replied, "and my friend here is helping me."

The woman's lips quirked. "He's a magus. Not exactly an innocent."

Rin's calm demeanor shattered in an instant, and she whirled directly to Shirou, performing some sort of analytical technique before her eyes widened. All the while, the swordsman companion of Rin kept his eyes on the woman, covering her.

"Emiya, what the hell did you do?," Rin yelled at him.

Shirou jumped slightly at her tone, and picked his words carefully.

"I was on my home from an archery club meeting when I smelled blood. I found Mr. Kawasaki dead in his office, and then this woman attacked me." Shirou winced, rubbing his injured shoulder, the hole through it already starting to heal. "I've been running from her ever since."

"And the part where you're actually a magus?," Rin growled.

Shirou winced again, this time from the force of Rin's glare more than physical discomfort.

"Would you believe me if I said that I had no idea what you were talking about?," Shirou asked, hoping against but expecting another outburst.

He wasn't wrong. "Shirou Emiya, once I've dealt with this woman, we are going to have _words,_ " hissed Rin, turning her attention back to the woman. The older female in the area looked somewhat amused from the banter, but focused on Rin and her companion.

 _He hasn't spoken a word_ , Shirou noted absently, considering Rin's odd follower. _In fact, I don't think he's moved._

Inching his body away from both the irascible young magus and the deadly woman, Shirou tried to continue on his way home. Three glares from Rin, the woman, and, surprising Shirou, Rin's companion, put an end to his halfhearted escape attempt.

"I'll most certainly be getting the full story out of Emiya later" – Shirou flinched at the vehemence in Rin's voice, knowing this side of her but never having experienced it before – "but I want to know what yet another magus, one unknown to me entirely, is doing in this city." Rin ended the statement with a raised voice, indicating that she wanted both the identity of the woman and the reason for her presence. The woman only smiled.

"Wait." Rin followed the word by scrunching her face, an expression Shirou found somewhat adorable, and then stared very forcefully at the woman. "You're no magus. At least, not a normal one."

The woman said nothing.

"You're the source of the field around the school, aren't you? And the source of prana that my friend," Rin gestured at her blade-wielding companion, "was detecting."

The woman continued her silence, her grin widening slightly.

"You're a servant." Rin stated with certainty. _A what?,_ thought Shirou.

"The question, then, is which class you happen to be a member of." Rin continued her musings, never taking an eye off of the woman. Shirou considered making another break for it, but decided against the idea.

"You're not wielding a blade or polearm, so you can't be Saber or Lancer. You're in control of yourself, so you're obviously not Berserker. You don't have a bow and your ranged attacks didn't instantly kill Emiya, so you're not Archer." Rin began to pace. "So that leaves Assassin, Rider, and Caster. Would you mind telling me which you are?"

The woman smirked. "What fun would that be? You're obviously the master of tall, dark, and gloomy over there," she pointed to Rin's companion, "who at least looks like a Saber to me, even if my knowledge of Eastern heroes is a bit lacking. Why would I tell you anything?"

Rin frowned then sighed, turning her attention to Shirou, who was about to make another escape attempt _._

"Emiya, we'll _talk_ later." There was an emphasis on the third word that Shirou was not a fan of. "For now, get out of here. This woman is far too strong for you, and I don't want to see you die."

Rin's face flushed slightly with that last sentence, but it cleared as she spun back to the woman, who no longer sported a smile.

"Oh? I think I'd like to play with him a bit longer. Since he's a magus, he'd be a big help to me." The woman batted her eyelashes at Shirou, who was slowly walking backwards, before turning back to Rin, a glint in her eyes. "But if you insist..."

Suddenly, the previously immobile horde of desks and chairs began rumbling, the wood stretching, twining, and merging with the other pieces of furniture. The mass of wood and metal slowly took a roughly humanoid shape, clawed metal fingers bursting from the ends of its wooden arms. The wooden monstrosity leapt in front of the woman, hiding her from sight.

"...I'll be happy to deal with you first."

The beast leapt forward at the same time Rin's armor-clad companion did, both obscured from view by Rin's toss and detonation of her explosive jewelry. Shirou turned, injected prana into his circuits, and ran.

* * *

Shirou reached the edge of his house's bounded field, placed his hands on his knees, and gasped for air. After taking a few deep breaths, he sighed, and walked forward. He took off his bow and backpack and placed them next to the door, stretching slightly to recover from the strain of his sprint. He'd managed to run from the entrance to the school to his house, but not before having to dodge a squirrel, two dogs, a cat, and one particularly inquisitive pigeon. He thought he might have been followed, but he had to trust that Rin and her mysterious companion – _Saber, that woman called him_ , recalled Shirou – would defeat that woman.

He took another deep breath, and fished in his pockets for his house key. He placed it in the lock when he heard a familiar laugh. Slowly, fearfully, he turned around, a twinge in the back of his mind confirming what the laugh suggested.

 _The alert from the bounded field was definitely too late_ , he thought as he beheld the same woman from earlier.

Despite the fight she must have had with Rin and her friend, the woman looked entirely unharmed, her outfit not even rumpled. Her eyes were far less placid than when they'd met earlier, and despite the laugh, her lips were turned to a severe frown.

 _Fortunately, it seems she didn't bring anything with her this time_ , he considered, _not that it helps all that much_.

He'd already dropped his bow, and the woman did not seem willing to allow him to pick it up. His best option would be to make his way to his workshop in the backyard shed, the one in front not chosen due to its prior use by his father.

"I'm surprised to see you so pristine," Shirou said. The woman didn't respond.

As he attempted to subtly move around the woman, she shifted her body so that he was once again pressed up against the front door.

 _It seems as though I'll have to try something else this time_ , he thought.

He checked his circuits, trying to gauge whether he could project enough swords and arrows to cover his dash. Unfortunately, it seemed that his reinforced run from school had left him with far less than he'd need to project enough to cover the full trip.

That plan no longer a possibility, he considered the shed in front. It had been his father's workshop, he knew, but what was more important was that it was unlit, the lights within having been unhooked from the power grid two years after his father's death.

 _If I can get there, maybe I can use the darkness to stage a surprise attack,_ he mused. _It's incredibly risky, but I don't think I have much choice._

"Speechless, are you? No pleading? No bargaining?," questioned the woman, a smile again on her face. Unlike their first meeting, the smile she sported held no indulgence or superiority. Instead, it looked almost sadistic, as though she'd enjoy causing Shirou pain and was disappointed she wouldn't hear him beg first.

"Oh well." She raised an arm, and Shirou made his move.

"Trace on!"

At the moment the words left his lips, Shirou reinforced his knee and slammed it into the woman in front of him, simultaneously projecting two wooden training swords in his hands, which he slashed downward towards where he kneed the woman. She was far more solid than Shirou expected, moving a shorter distance than he'd expected of her. Nevertheless, there was an opening, and he raced through the small gap in her guard, a whistling sound and a sharp jerk of his hair indicating that he'd barely dodged something aimed at his head. He threw the training swords at the woman before projecting another set which he again threw, aiming not to incapacitate but to blind.

He managed three more repetitions before he heard her laugh again, was hit by something, and felt a rib give out.

"You're a very strange magus...Emiya, was it? Yes, Emiya."

He didn't risk a look back as he stumbled forward, perhaps five meters from the shed, switching to arrows instead of swords as his handheld ammunition of choice.

"I'm sure your prana will be equally fascinating!"

Something slammed into his back, rocketing him towards the shed. He barely had time to reinforce his body as he slammed through the front of the building, splintering the wooden door and landing with countless cuts over his body. Heedless of the blood slowly dripping down to the floor of the shed, Shirou projected a sharp dagger into his hand, desperately hoping that the woman would enter after him and not level the building from afar.

His pleas were answered as the woman floated in after him serenely. As soon as she crossed the boundary, he leapt, attempting to decapitate the woman. To his horror, though he'd managed to slice her, his weapon only penetrated perhaps a millimeter in. The woman laughed that laugh of hers and grabbed Shirou by the throat, causing him to drop the slightly bloodied dagger.

"Oh? No distracting questions this time?," she mocked.

Shirou couldn't see the woman's expression in the shadows of the building, but he got the impression that she was smiling again. He stared at the already healing line on her neck.

"I figured I'd allow you to hit me once, in honor of your perseverance; I'm not normally a fan of giving gifts, but I can at least respect your tenacity."

The woman's fingers turned painfully tight.

"That doesn't mean that I won't very much enjoy seeing you gone."

He gasped, clasping his arms against hers and struggling to remove her fingers from his throat, but he realized that, even after reinforcement, he couldn't manage an inch of slack. She squeezed further.

"Die, Shirou Emiya."

His neck hurt. It hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced, more even than forming his own makeshift magic circuits from his spine. He wanted the pain to stop.

"Ghrk!" came out of his mouth, but he'd intended to plead, his pride and resourcefulness spent.

 _I don't want to die!,_ he thought, his sight fading.

He heard a thrumming from within him, and his vision grew black.

* * *

The sky was blindingly blue, and shimmering white gears turned on the horizon. Where there might have been a sun floated a sheath, shaped differently than Sol but no less radiant. The sky looked down on a hill of lush greenery, empty of all but a twin pair of falchions. _Those are the swords that Rin's Servant was using, Kanshou and Bakuya_ , Shirou realized. Below the hill was a silver sea, stretching to the edges of the world.

Piercing the top of the hill was a blade. The sword's appearance was not especially notable, at least on initial inspection. It was plain, forged of iron with no obvious decoration on its hilt; but for a soft thrumming in tune with its owner's heartbeat, one could easily mistake it for the mundane work of an amateur blacksmith. As Shirou watched, the blade freed itself from the hill. Slowly, the sword began to rotate, faster and faster, pulsing inversely in time with his fading heartbeat. The magus saw it catch fire, shooting the flames to the scabbard in the sky. In turn, the sheath glowed brighter, its luminescence washing over him until everything turned white.

"I..."

His vision faded in again as he opened his eyes, staring at the shocked woman before him. Her hand unclenched slightly from his neck, leaving him a chance to draw in a deep breath. The ground around him was glowing silver, marking out the form of a magic circle Shirou hadn't noticed, while the droplets of blood he had spilled glowed as well, a deep blue.

He heard a sound like an unsheathing sword. In the center of the circle, just behind him and the woman suspending him in the air by his throat, the outline of a humanoid figure began to take shape, its indistinct form wreathed in an aura of silver.

"I ask..."

The figure took detail slowly. First came the armor stretching from boots to faulds, encircling the figure's waist. Shirou thought the dimensions were masculine, but wasn't quite sure. He hissed as his right hand began to burn, symbols lighting into his flesh.

"I ask of you..."

A cuirass formed above an iron hauberk, confirming Shirou's estimation of a male. The cuirass was forged of the same steel as the rest of the figure, though it was covered in a blue fabric, one that trailed around the figure to form a cape. The pauldrons, vambrace, and gauntlets took form next. Though all were composed of the steel common to the figure, the gauntlets seemed inlaid with gold, and the right hand seemed to be grasping at air.

"I ask of you, are you..."

Finally the head of the figure formed, independent of any armor. The man had blond hair, cropped short, and a trimmed beard of a slightly darker shade. His eyes were a deep blue, and his expression gave no indication of his mental state. On his head was a crown of gold, inlaid not with gems but rather with silver alloy. He spoke.

 **"I ask of you, are you my master?"**

The woman holding Shirou audibly gasped and dropped the young magus to the ground. Her eyes were wide, and Shirou couldn't decipher the expression on her face. Her lips opened.

"Arthur?"

* * *

 **AN:** Forgive my lack of knowledge of armor in the mid-first-millenium of Wales, please. If you've got comments on stuff, I'm always happy to read them, but I'd appreciate it if you held off on any criticism relating to adherence to canon; I don't really care about that.


	2. Chapter 2

Shirou gaped _._ The blond man – Arthur – exuded a sense of majesty, dignity, and, above all, power. Power enough that even he, with his heavily restricted abilities as a magus, could detect him. He instantly focused on the man, shoving the events of seconds ago to the back of his mind in light of the potential new threat.

Arthur turned to face Shirou directly. He spoke once more.

"I ask of you, are you my master?"

"I-" Shirou coughed, his throat not yet recovered from his near-strangulation, "I am."

 _Even if I'm not_ , Shirou reasoned, thinking furiously, _I'm no match for the woman. If my analysis of the situation is correct, I'm no match for this man either, which means that I need to get him on my side. We'll deal with potential complications later, when I'm not at risk of imminent death._

The woman laughed, the ever-present trace of mockery gone. "Well, Arthur, I can't say I ever expected to see you again. Much less here, of all places. **"**

Arthur ignored her in favor of completing the odd ritual.

"I am servant Saber, summoned to you by the power of the grail. I accept you as my master. What are your orders?" As he said his piece, he kneeled in front of Shirou.

The engravings on Shirou's right hand flashed a brilliant gold, and Shirou immediately felt another drain on his already battered prana reserves.

 _I have an idea of what's going on thanks to Rin, and I need to analyze myself to figure out what just happened_ , he thought, _but as I seem to have gained an ally, I think making sure I don't die is currently paramount._

"Saber, Arthur, whoever you are: I order you to protect me from this–" Shirou pointed at the woman standing above his prone body, obviously enjoying herself, "woman."

Arthur bowed his head.

"It shall be done."

He stood to his full height, eclipsing the woman's frame, before turning to her. Recognition flashed in his widened eyes, and a slight smile touched his lips before he addressed her.

"Morgan, my master has commanded me to guard him from you. Would you be willing to leave without requiring me to resort to force?"

The woman smirked, her challenging but undeniably fond gaze focused on Arthur.

"And, brother, if I am not so willing?"

Arthur smiled, an equally challenging look directed at Morgan. His right gauntlet became cloaked in a swirl of deep orange light. As the light faded, Shirou saw that Arthur's gauntlet had turned to bronze, and he clutched a broadsword forged of the same alloy. The sword itself was covered in short curved spines, the tips glowing a bright red, and it possessed a basket-hilt patterned after a rosebush, small nubs and petaled caricatures substituting for thorns and flowers. This was a sword meant to tear, not to stab nor slash.

 _Clyfodran, sword of Sir Bors_ , recognized Shirou, bringing with it an image of the sword sinking into the hill he'd seen when summoning Arthur, resting hilt upwards next to the falchions he'd seen Rin's servant use. _I really need to figure out what caused that vision, too_ , he thought.

"Then I shall force you away," said Arthur, keeping the smile on his face as he brought Clyfodran into a ready position, prompting an almost unnoticeable flinch from his prospective opponent.

Morgan's laughter filled the air once more as she raised her arms in an unmistakable gesture of surrender. She turned her gaze from Arthur, smiling at Shirou before addressing the newly instated Master.

"I have no wish to dissipate at the present moment, and my brother over there–" she jerked an arm in Arthur's direction, the golden haired man keeping his sword in position to strike, "doesn't seem like he'll let me drain you, so I'm afraid I have to say goodbye. I'll see both of you later!" At the last word, her form disappeared, causing Arthur to sigh.

Shirou blinked, surprised at her vanishing act, before turning to Arthur and raising an eyebrow at the latter's muted reaction.

"Servants are able to turn invisible and intangible, a form in which they drain less prana than when corporeal," Arthur explained, before continuing. "My sister, however, has always been particularly talented with illusions, and it seems as though she took the moment when I equipped the sword of Sir Bors–" Arthur gestured to his bronze right gauntlet, still clutching the thorn sword, "to replace herself with an illusion, masking her presence on her way out."

 _Most illusions don't talk,_ Shirou thought. He said as much to the man in front of him.

"I did say she was particularly talented, did I not?," Arthur grinned, before his expression turned serious.

"I suppose we should formally introduce ourselves to one another," he said. "I am Arthur Pendragon, Lord of Camelot, King of Britain, summoned as servant Saber by the power of the grail."

"I am Shirou Emiya, seventeen year old magus, apparently your master, and not entirely certain what's going on," Shirou responded, before taking a breath and continuing. "However, I will lay out my knowledge of the situation, sparse as it is, and hope that you can fill in the gaps."

Arthur's expression turned slightly contemplative when Shirou stated his last name, but he shook it off and replied.

"That is acceptable."

Shirou took another breath, trying recall the contents of his short conversation with Rin.

"I'm not certain what the artifact you sought for a good portion of your reign has to do with anything," at this Arthur looked surprised, as though he'd expected Shirou to be entirely ignorant of the king's history, "but I know that 'servants' aren't human and seem to be historical figures of some renown. Further, I believe that there are 7 different types of servant, likely named after their primary method of combat. You are Saber, and adept in the use of swords; I don't know if there are any other aspects of these classes."

Shirou paused, attempting to collect his thoughts.

"There is some form of battle going on between these servants, maybe to win the grail, but that's just a guess. In addition, each of these servants has an associated master, who feeds them prana. That's the sum of my knowledge; as you can probably tell, I didn't exactly intend to summon you," Shirou finished, a sheepish grin on his face.

Arthur considered his master's words for a moment, rubbed his beard with his left gauntlet, then responded. Shirou began to pay careful attention.

"First, this is not the grail I and my knights sought in our lifetime: it is some kind of manufactured object, created by humans for the purpose of granting wishes. For the grail to grant wishes, however, requires a significant amount of prana. Further, the grail is only capable of granting 2 wishes at one time."

Arthur stopped for a second, to ensure that the magus understood.

"In order to collect this prana, the grail war was conceived. Seven magi, referred to as masters, would summon seven heroes –servants– from past ages, who would fight until only one remained. The defeated servants would be converted into prana, which would fill the grail. The victorious servant and its master would each be granted a wish."

 _Wishes, huh. Any limitations?,_ Shirou questioned to himself, but remained silent, urging Arthur to continue.

"In case the servants refused to fight for whatever reason, command seals–" the king pointed to Shirou's right hand, "were created. With those seals, one can command a servant to do anything, though if the command is too broad, it functions less as an unbreakable oath and more as a suggestion. Additionally, the command seals can allow servants to ignore reality for a time, allowing for such feats as instant teleportation should a master command his servant's presence, or such feats of that ilk."

Shirou nodded. Arthur continued his explanation.

"You were correct regarding your thoughts on the classes, though a given servant is not limited solely to the style of fighting described by their class. Instead, servants gain strength in their determined class, though it is only on top of their base ability; for example, though I was very proficient with a sword in my lifetime, my current skill with a sword is leagues beyond that which it was when I still lived. Were I summoned as Lancer instead, my skill with a lance would gain a corresponding boost, though it would sum to less than my current skill with a sword."

"So you're saying that classes give benefits, but that personal skill is equally important?"

"Indeed. You are aware of the seven classes?," Arthur gave as a rejoinder.

Shirou thought for a second. "Saber, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster, Berserker, and Archer, right?"

Arthur nodded.

"Correct. Beyond class and personal skill, however, heroes summoned by the grail are granted phenomena known as noble phantasms, corresponding to abilities reflecting the lives and heroics of the hero in question. These are often the most powerful abilities a given hero possesses, and these range from legendary weaponry, to magical abilities, to intangible concepts. In addition, these phantasms are usually unique to a given person. As an example of one of my phantasms, I possess the sword Excalibur."

Arthur finished his rundown of the grail war, urging Clyfodran to disappear, whereupon his gauntlet returned to normal.

"Do you have any questions?"

* * *

Shirou stared at Arthur for a minute, making certain he'd categorized all relevant information. _Okay, seven masters, seven servants, fighting over a device that grants wishes. That only works if all but one of the servants kill each other._ He frowned. _I don't really approve, and once I've talked things over with Arthur, we're going to need to discuss how to approach this._

Arthur repeated his earlier availability regarding Shirou's questions, looking concernedly at the frowning magus.

 _I have quite a few questions, yes_ , Shirou thought sarcastically, though he reined himself in before saying the statement out loud. He sighed and schooled his features _. Right. Well, I should probably get a sense of what he's capable of._

"Aside from what exactly is going on with your right hand–" Shirou pointed to his servant's gauntlet, seemingly grasped around the hilt of a sword despite Arthur's shift from his other weapon, "I'd like to know a few things about you."

Arthur looked wistful for a second, though his expression shifted into befuddlement before arriving at neutrality.

"What do you wish to know?," the king asked.

"For one, beyond your skill with a sword, what other skills do you have, non-Excalibur noble phantasms included?," Shirou asked.

Arthur responded by shaking his head. "This is obviously not a secure location, as shown by Morgan's former presence, and I'd prefer not to let the other servants and masters know that I have skills beyond my possession of Excalibur."

Shirou accepted his answer with a nod.

"Alright then. I had some more questions along those lines, and I would additionally like you to tell me any skills possessed by all servants, but we can handle that inside my house. Next question: how do you know all of this stuff? Furthermore, how are you speaking Japanese?"

Arthur nodded in turn. "I am aware of this information because of the grail. When it summons heroes to fight in the grail war, it supplies basic information on the war itself in addition to the contemporary era, including knowledge of the servant's master's language. If I were to be summoned to a bilingual master, I would be granted familiarity with both languages spoken by my master. As you personally possess a rough familiarity with modern English and German, I am capable of speaking the two languages in addition to your native tongue." He paused. "I happen to know more than many other servants for reasons that, again, I do not feel should be disclosed in public."

Arthur smiled. "On that topic, I agree that we should head into your house to continue this conversation."

"Good idea," Shirou responded, and motioned for Arthur to follow. The two of them exited the remnants of Kiritsugu's old workshop and proceeded to the door, though not before Shirou picked up his bow and backpack and realized the key was still in the lock.

 _I'm rather fortunate that no one broke in_ , Shirou thought, a slight grin coming to his face as he opened the door.

The room was modestly sized and furnished in an earth-like tone, the window shades and wallpaper variants of the same light brown color. There was a small padded chair that looked well-sat in, and an electric kotatsu, the small wooden table covered in an emerald green blanket. The floor was polished wood, though there was a carpet with the design of 2 knights in battle placed under the chair and table, and a floor mat could be seen peaking out from underneath the carpet. About 6 meters from the chair sat a small television on a short stand, low enough to be seen while eating but high enough to comfortably view from the chair.

"Well, I'm sure it's no Camelot, but make yourself at home. The chair's yours if you want it, by the way," Shirou stated, looking around somewhat fondly. Arthur paused, taking in the unfamiliar room, and gingerly sat on the chair, trying to make sure that the added weight of his armor didn't break the furniture.

Shirou locked the door, sat by the table, and looked up at the seated knight. "Well, this is as private as we're going to get: my father set up some bounded fields to ensure privacy, and I'm not exactly proficient in their creation, myself."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I've noticed that your prana is...strange. Do you mind telling me about it?"

The teenager laughed nervously, fidgeting a bit. "Well, how much do you know about magecraft?"

Arthur stared at him, then let out a chuckle. "Merlin was my main advisor. I daresay I know quite a bit, and have even dabbled in it myself."

Shirou looked down for a second, firmed his shoulders, and looked unflinchingly at Arthur. "The truth is, I'm almost useless as a magus. The only things I'm really good at are reinforcement and projection, though I can combine the two to create longer lasting projections."

He paused, trying to give a bit of gravitas to his next statement.

"However, I've developed a skill I call structural analysis, which basically lets me see the component parts and history of any individual item I can touch– even see, for certain items. I can tell you about how I managed it some other time, if you're interested, it involves me accidentally turning a bunch of my nerves into extra magic circuits, but the important part is that it makes my reinforcement and projection much more useful than they would otherwise be."

"For example," Shirou held out his hand, thought _"Trace On"_ , and created a short wooden club, plunging a dagger through it, before placing the pierced club to the side and re-projecting an unblemished club, "normal reinforcement works like _this_."

He projected another dagger, haphazardly reinforced the club to augment its properties, and struck it with the blade. The dagger barely nicked the wood before coming to a stop, vibrating with the force of the strike.

The magus projected a third club, and continued talking. "However, I can see the specific flow of the grains in the wood, and with a bit of minor alteration, I can do _this_."

Shirou concentrated, specifically reinforcing the bond between the individual strands of wood, forming the club into a more compact whole. He projected yet another iron dagger, and tried to bury it in the wood. Unlike the prior two results, the iron entirely failed to penetrate, its form bending in protest of the motion. The magus sighed. "If I were more adept at chemistry, I could probably do this even better: I've gotten to a microscopic level, but I'm still not able to reinforce past that."

Arthur looked suitably impressed. "I see how your analysis improves your reinforcement, but how does it improve your projection?"

Shirou smiled. "When I project something, I don't project my idea of it; I project its entire history, complexity and all. Where a normal magus could only project a simple dagger, I can project far more elaborate weapons." Shirou pictured a double edged sword he'd seen on a trip with Kiritsugu to the British Museum, their last vacation before his father's death. Slowly, the sword he'd pictured came into existence, from the iron blade's inscription to the silver and copper inlays in the hilt.

Arthur peered over his shoulder before letting out a loud guffaw.

Shirou frowned, looking at his servant. _What's so funny?,_ he wondered.

Arthur caught sight of the expression on his master's face, before gesturing to the sword and dropping his laughter to a chuckle. "The inscription on the blade is a rather impolite insult in Welsh," he explained, smiling.

The king paused, forehead bunched in thought. "What of other objects? Can you create weapons of your own, without copying them?"

Shirou's smile was a bit wry. "Well, actually, while I can reinforce just about anything, I'm not easily able to project anything other than bladed weapons. I can do it, but it costs a significant amount of prana. The reason for this is...you are aware of elements and origins, yes?"

"Shirou, my instructor was Merlin," Arthur drily reminded the young magus.

Taking that as the affirmation it was, Shirou elaborated. "Both my element and origin are sword. Because of structural analysis, I am capable of using the same techniques on other objects, but, as I said, it drains my prana extremely quickly." He paused for breath. "As for your second question, I think I'm theoretically capable of it, but I'd never actually thought to try. My knowledge of metallurgy and blacksmithing is rather limited."

Shirou thought for a second before widening his eyes.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I don't use this often, because it doesn't seem especially useful, but I can do something else as well."

He picked up the dagger that had bounced off the structurally reinforced club, dismissing all of his other projections. He concentrated, and the dagger burst into pale white flame.

Despite the coloration, Shirou felt no heat from the dagger, even passing his hand through the top of the flame without incident. "This doesn't seem to do anything beyond look pretty and drain my prana," he explained, "I've experimented with it quite a bit and it doesn't seem to enhance the properties of the weapon in any manner."

He looked over to Arthur, who was staring rigidly at the dagger in Shirou's hand.

The king looked deathly serious. "Shirou. _That–_ " Arthur pointed at the dagger, "is divine fire. How exactly are you managing this?"

The young magus became contemplative. "It works almost like a mental switch, actually. If it's on, all of my projected weapons come out with the flame, and if it's off, none do. Before you ask, I'm not certain exactly where I got this ability, but I've had it ever since I started training under my father."

"I understand. Nevertheless, you should be made aware that it is extremely dangerous. Specifically, it is one of few things which can easily harm a heroic spirit such as myself, and its effects on any other divine object are quite unpredictable," Arthur explained.

 _How is Arthur even aware of the nature of the flame I can summon?,_ Shirou questioned to himself. _Oh, wait, he_ _was taught by Merlin. He probably knows far more about magecraft than I do. No need to get the same answer a third time.  
_

"Well," Shirou said, "that should make an interesting trump card."

He let the dagger projection dissipate before turning back to Arthur, though he paused.

 _This whole discussion about analysis reminds me, I need to check out exactly what this master-servant bond has done to me_ , Shirou considered.

"Hey, Arthur," the magus looked over at his servant and asked, "while I still have many questions I'd like answered, I'd like to take a short break to analyze myself. Do you mind waiting while I do so?"

"Go on," replied the king, who seemed to have calmed down and was staring in fascination at the television set.

Shirou heard the answer and looked inward, stretching his awareness to his right hand and hyperfocusing on the seals. He felt the prana flow from him to Arthur, and delved deeper. The command seals themselves were incredibly complex, especially for someone as untalented in normal magecraft as he, but he did see a secondary, currently inert channel of prana flow stretching from each seal to the British king. _Those must be the method by which the command seals actually transmit the commands_ , Shirou considered before absentmindedly analyzing the rest of his body.

Unbidden, thoughts of the thorned sword Arthur wielded in his defense sprang to his mind. _I wonder..._ , thought Shirou. He began picturing the sword in his mind, from its well-crafted hilt to its sleek blade. He considered the thorns, tipped by a red glow, and–

 _The sword's design commemorates the time_ _ _Sir Bors_ left his brother Lionel to be whipped by thorns, instead choosing to rescue a kidnapped woman. Its proper use is, when slashing, to dig into an enemy's flesh and rip, the thorns heating to high temperatures to expedite_ – Shirou gasped, his head pounding, but he felt a thrumming beneath his skin, and focused again on the picture of the blade in his mind. He considered the hilt of the blade, its sculpting an echo of a rose, the patterned flowers and–

 _Sir Bors fought against the pagan inhabitants of the isle of Sarras, fallen to immorality with the departure of Joseph of Arimathea's line, the final stop on the quest for–_ Shirou could almost feel the blade, from its smooth grip to its sharp bronze blade, its slight pommel and–

 _ _Bors' blade was used to slay Sir Gareth when Bors and Lancelot rode to save Guinivere from execution, the act that exiled Lancelot's faction to France and led to the final fall of–_ _ His head felt as though it was on fire, his spine was burning, and his hands shook. He pictured the sword once more, and–

 _The knight saw battle once more against Melehan the Usurper, eldest son of Mordred, after Melehan murdered Lionel. Bors' weapon rent his flesh, despite his pleas, and slew the wicked–_ He saw the blade in its position on the hill, and it rose to him. He focused on its contours, the intricate patterns of the basket hilt, the thorns placed for maximum tear, the blade sharpened by enchantment of Nimue. He felt the weight in his fingers, whispered his trigger phrase, and–

Arthur stood with a crash, staring at Shirou's hand. His right gauntlet shone bronze, warping until the grip in his palm was that of Bors' blade. The king had a strange look in his eyes, a combination of fear and awe. For the first time since Shirou summoned him, the monarch looked uncertain.

"What...how...?" Arthur's words came out in a whisper, his gaze locked past Shirou's wrists.

Shirou looked down and flinched, a tremor making its way through his body. In his palm was Clyfodran, yet not: its thorns shone a dull red, and its engraved hilt looked vaguely ill-defined. But the blade _glowed_ , an orange aura forming around it. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before: he could feel the devotion Bors felt towards Lancelot, his anguish upon the mistaken slaughter of Gareth, and the regret he felt towards breaking the compact with his liege. Indeed, he–

The magus gave a sickening cry, his back arched as agonizing tendrils of energy passed through his spine and into the sword. He let go with a gasp, and whatever had formed in his hand slipped through his fingers before disappearing into prana. He brought his left hand to his head and it came away slick with sweat. With a sigh, he began to collapse backwards, his form caught by the waiting hands of a kneeling Arthur.

"Shirou, are you alright?", asked Arthur, his face taut with worry and his gauntlet back to normal.

Shirou nodded weakly, taking deep, gulping breaths. _What happened to me?_ , he thought, _for a second there it was as if I..._

"I do not know what just happened, but Shirou: it felt as though you had become Bors for a brief moment in time." Arthur looked concerned, but guarded. "Are you certain that you are unharmed?"

Shirou nodded again, this time less shakily. He tried to stand, though he had to use Arthur for support. The magus grimaced. _Best turn off that so-called mental switch_ , he thought.

"I'm not quite sure what that was, but I have an idea." The boy took a deep breath and pushed off of his servant onto his own feet, wobbling slightly but otherwise stable.

Arthur stiffened. "Master, your idea will have to wait. I have just detected two prana signatures approaching, and one is almost certainly a servant."

Shirou took hesitant steps until he stood beside the door, stating his activation phrase and projecting the same engraved sword he'd shown Arthur into his hand. Arthur took up a position on the other side of the door, his gauntlets clenched over what Shirou was slowly coming to realize was an invisible sword.

"They should be arriving within seconds, master," Arthur whispered, his words almost drowned out by Shirou's rapid heartbeat. "Move on the count of three."

Shirou nodded jerkily, bracing himself for a leap.

"One." Shirou heard footsteps approaching.

"Two." Arthur entered a crouch, ready to swing at the first entrant. The steps reached the door.

"Three!" Shirou barely checked his swing as instead of the door bursting open, he heard loud knocking. A voice he recognized followed.

"Open this door right now, Shirou Emiya, or I'll _break_ it down!"

He groaned. Of _course_ it was Rin.

* * *

 **AN:** It may have been unclear in my last AN, but I quite like criticism. If my plot ever goes incoherent, my characters inconsistent, or my mechanical writing skill pathetic, please take the time to tell me. I may have future plans that rely on apparent inconsistencies, but it's always good to hear responses. Heck, even if it's just affirmation that you feel I'm doing the right thing (or a statement that you dislike how I'm doing things, preferably including where you find yourself with a problem), I'll appreciate it. I may not change things, whether out of laziness (a terrible but nonetheless honest reason) or future plot considerations, but I'll take it all under advisement.

That said, what I would prefer _not_ to get is criticism over how well I adhere to canon characterization, mechanics, or plot elements: all fanfiction is by necessity non-canon, and there's no intrinsic value in adhering more closely than not. There's certainly danger in deviating too far, but that's because it's much harder to do well, not because the "natural" state of things is better. I'm not going to just change things for no reason, mind you, but I kinda have to change a bunch of things if I want to do everything I plan to. Don't worry: Shirou is still Shirou, they're still going after the grail, Rin is still alternately sweet and terrifying, there are seven masters and seven servants, and so on.


	3. Chapter 3

" _Well_ , Shirou?" Rin's fist pounded on the door as she expressed her irritation with her classmate. "I'll give you a count of three before I force my way in."

"One!" Shirou sighed and twisted the lock open, but hesitated.

 _Dare I?_ , he thought. _It'll be be fun to mess with her, but she may very well try to kill me._

Arthur went to open the door, though he stopped in place when Shirou held up his hand, the boy sporting a mischievous smile.

"Two!" Rin shouted, as Shirou heard a sigh from what could only be her blade-wielding companion.

At the thought of the well-armored, white-haired man, Shirou paused. _Wait, Arthur is Saber. What exactly_ is _her servant, then?_

"Three!"

Immediately after Rin finished her count, Shirou flung the door open. Rin's fist, which seemed about to return to pounding – belying her threat to blow up the entrance to his home, he thought, amused – swung at air, and the unbalanced female magus toppled over with an indignant shriek, falling face first into Shirou's chest with a slight thud.

"I'm going to kill you, Emiya," Rin threatened, her voice muffled by Shirou's mildly bloodied T-shirt.

"I'm sure you will, Tohsaka," Shirou replied, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice.

He took stock of the situation: Arthur was staring at the magi with an unreadable look, though there was a spark of humor crinkling the skin about his blue eyes. Rin's servant had an equally unreadable emotion on his face, though the tightly restrained anger in his expression differentiated the man's reaction from Arthur's. Rin, of course, was sprawled against his chest, her face mostly hidden but her slightly visible cheeks burning a bright pink.

No one seemed especially willing to make the first move, so Shirou took charge. "Rin, I don't especially mind having you in my arms, but I think we have some things to discuss."

Rin pushed hard against him, causing him to slightly stagger, and found her way to her feet again, giving him an extra shove for good measure. _That glare she's giving me doesn't really work with the blush still on her face_ , Shirou mused. He chalked it up as his victory, then turned serious.

"Tohsaka," he nodded to Rin, who maintained her annoyance, "and unnamed companion of Tohsaka," he nodded to the mentioned man, who gave him a glare of his own, "I would really appreciate it if you explained your purpose in coming here. I haven't yet had time to discuss the finer points of the grail war with my servant, but I don't believe it's all too normal for enemy masters and servants to meet without engaging in battle. That said, I don't especially want to fight against anyone, so if you have other intentions, please tell me them."

Rin's angry expression turned to shock, though it was quickly replaced by exasperation. "Shirou, if I wanted to fight you, why would I have knocked on the door in the first place?"

"Well, maybe–"

"Just let us in, you idiot," Rin said as she pushed past Shirou into the living room, followed closely by her companion, who gave him an even harder push. She claimed the chair for herself, acting as though she'd lived there her entire life.

Her companion took up a post behind his master, his angry gaze sweeping the room before landing on Arthur, resting there for a few seconds longer than Shirou was comfortable with. He took the opportunity to close the door, discretely motioning for Arthur to keep an eye on the other servant. The redcoat-clad man already looked bored, slumping against the wall with a sigh before turning to his master and speaking.

"Master, even if the boy is a previously unknown magus, he summoned a servant. That makes him our enemy. Why are we even here?," questioned the swordsman.

Condescension dripped from the man's words, and Shirou found himself instantly annoyed by Rin's servant. _I liked him better back when he didn't speak,_ he thought.

"Because he has no idea what he's gotten himself into, and it is my duty as manager of the city to ensure he doesn't accidentally reveal the existence of magic," replied Rin, the very picture of poise and confidence.

"Tohsaka, I've been a magus ever since my dad rescued me from the Fuyuki fire. I know what I'm not supposed to do in front of non-magi." The girl deflated in an instant, and shot Shirou yet another glare.

Shirou paused, trying to confirm a niggling suspicion of his. "Did you forget that my dad was Kiritsugu Emiya? The magus killer? How on earth did you not realize that I was a magus before today?"

Rin sputtered for a moment, her face again red. "Of-of course I know who your father was! I just didn't think he'd be stupid enough to teach _you_ magecraft." She calmed herself before continuing.

"Well, you obviously didn't know a thing about the grail war when you were fighting that servant earlier, so I'm sure this trip wasn't a complete waste of–"

"Actually, I think I know pretty much everything now, and my servant–" Shirou interrupted as he gestured to Arthur, who was watching Rin's companion warily from his spot by the door, "should be able to tell me the rest."

The king gave a firm nod, not taking his eyes off of the other servant. "I am indeed able," he replied.

"That-that's ridiculous, how could he possibly know everything? Archer didn't–" Rin's eyes went wide as she realized what she had just accidentally revealed. Her servant put his face in his hands, letting out an audible groan.

" _Thank you_ , master, for revealing my class to an enemy," ground out the newly named Archer through his gritted teeth.

 _If he were any more sarcastic, he might actually wrap back around to sincerity_ , Shirou thought, amused, as he considered the new information. _An Archer who can fight with blades, then? Arthur did say that personal skills could grant abilities unrelated to a servant's class, though I do wonder why he possesses those white and black falchions. What were their names, again? Oh, right, Kanshou and Bakuya, the married blades, forged by the blacksmith–_

Shirou clutched at his head, recognizing an echo of the event from minutes prior. He willed his knowledge of the blades to end, and took a deep breath. Rin and Archer were busy glaring at one another, ignorant of his plight, but Arthur looked concerned. Shirou mouthed 'I'm okay' at the king, and Arthur fell back against the doorframe, relieved.

 _I have an idea. It's either really smart or really stupid, and I'm not sure which_ , Shirou thought to himself.

"Tohsaka." Shirou caught Rin's attention, tearing it away from her battle of wills with her servant. "We should ally with one another."

Her servant opened his mouth to respond, likely in the negative if his expression was to be believed, but Rin beat him to the punch.

"And why would I want to do that?," she questioned, her face settling into a neutral expression.

Shirou smiled. "A few reasons, first of which is strategic value."

He turned to Arthur. "I think you should reveal your class to them."

Arthur stared back, mildly surprised, before he spoke. "Are you certain? Honor is a virtue, but revealing important information to potential enemies is foolhardy at best."

Shirou nodded decisively. Taking it as both acknowledgement and certainty, Arthur turned to Rin and Archer.

"I am servant Saber."

The reactions of the magus and her servant differed greatly. Rin looked both contemplative and slightly annoyed, but restrained from asking questions, expecting elaboration from Shirou. Archer, however, stared very forcefully at Arthur, his gaze revealing naked shock.

"Ugh," groaned the servant of the bow, who closed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought.

Shirou noticed the white-haired man's reaction, but decided that prying would only serve to ruin his chances of successfully allying with his peer. He turned to Rin.

"Though your servant is obviously capable of close combat, given your battle with the servant who tried to kill me, I believe he is almost certainly better at long range, preferably in a support role. I am not yet certain of all of my servant's combat capabilities, but by nature of his class, I do not believe he can fight very well from long range. I would aid him, but I doubt that my magecraft can seriously harm a servant."

 _Well, maybe those divine flames can do it_ , he mentally added, _but after what just happened with Clyfodran, I don't want to use those without a lot more experimentation._

Shirou paused for breath, his eyes searching Rin's for a response. The latter magus kept her face set, giving away nothing. Shirou continued.

"Similarly, while I do not know all of your capabilities, judging from your actions against the female servant, you are also not entirely suited for close range combat." He paused again, this time for effect. "Thus, it makes strategic sense to ally, as we can cover each others' weaknesses: Saber and I can work against masters and servants in close quarters, while yourself and Archer can provide long range support."

Rin looked indecisive, Shirou noticed, and Archer seemed to still be lost in thought.

"Beyond strategy, there's the issue of information gathering. Two servants scouting in intangible form can cover a lot more ground than one," Shirou explained. "Four minds analyzing information are certainly better than two, and our differing viewpoints will allow one of us to find something missed by the others. For instance, I already have the name of the servant we fought, and I am almost certain of her class by nature of her identity, but I know nearly nothing of her full capabilities."

Rin's eyes flashed with interest, but she gestured for Shirou to continue.

"Ignoring tactical advantages, there's also the matter of safety in numbers. I trust you–" Rin's cheeks turned a little pink at the admission, "enough to assume that you won't stab me in the back, and I hope the fact that I voluntarily revealed my servant's class to you, invited you into my house," Rin's cheeks flushed a tad darker, "and get along with you at school will allow you to trust me."

Rin was silent for a moment, before asking the obvious question. "Why do you trust me?"

It was Shirou's turn to blush. "I, ah, may have possibly followed you around for a week when I learned you were a magus." His face was the picture of innocence, though it was belied by the sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Rin looked at him, her expression promising pain.

"You stalked me?," she growled, causing Shirou to gulp.

"I was told by my dad that magi were amoral bastards who didn't care about others, so I wanted to make sure you weren't killing anyone. I checked everywhere, from your workshop to your bedroom–" "You looked _where?!_ " Rin shouted, her face beet red, a small sphere of darkness swirling about the finger she had pointed at Shirou.

"This was back when I was 9!" Shirou yelped, dodging the curse shot his way by Rin. It splashed harmlessly on the wall behind him, the bounded field absorbing the magical bullet. "I didn't know any better!"

Arthur looked on, amused, and even Archer came out of his thoughts, adopting a smirk at the sight of Shirou begging Rin for mercy. However, his eyes suggested that he was still considering something.

The female magus sighed and lowered her hand. "Alright. I'm _not_ happy about you going into my bed-bedroom," her blush remained on her face, "but your reasons for wanting an alliance make sense, and I trust that you're too nice a person to be lying." The tone she used for the word 'nice' made it sound to Shirou as though she meant 'stupid'.

 _Honestly, she probably did,_ he considered.

"I think it's a terrible idea, myself." Archer looked more than a bit annoyed. "Even if an alliance makes sense, why make one with _him_ of all people?"

 _Seriously, what the heck is his deal?_ , Shirou wondered, not for the first time.

"He's someone I know, his rationale is sound, he seems to have an acceptable grasp of tactics, and he's the one who offered in the first place," Rin responded.

"Are you certain, master?," Rin's servant pressed, "I really don't trust this guy." Archer glared at Shirou, who was visibly confused.

"For what little it is worth, I do feel that an alliance would benefit all four of us," said Arthur, giving his own input.

Shirou considered doing the same, but realized that now might not be the right time to mess with his fellow magus.

Rin nodded. "Archer, you've known Shirou for less than an hour. He spends a significant amount of his free time fixing broken machines, without any compensation. I don't think I've ever seen him be mean to another human being. If there's anyone we can trust, it's him."

"I don't like this," Archer said with a sigh, "but I'll accede to your desire, master."

Shirou spoke, a grin on his face. "It's settled, then."

He turned to Rin. "Before anything else, I should probably tell you who that woman we fought was."

Upon hearing the statement, Arthur raised his finger to his lips, warning his master not to reveal too much.

 _I'll have to make up something convincing regarding how I know this_ , Shirou thought. _I'll claim she told me as she tried to kill me; that should be enough to appease Rin._

"Her name?," Rin said, obviously impatient.

He coughed. "Morgan. She told me herself right as she almost strangled me to death, just before I accidentally summoned Saber. I'm also pretty sure she's Caster, given the way she fought."

"Wait, she was with you? Archer and I destroyed that wooden colossus she created, and she was there shooting objects at us the whole time. At least, until she ran away." Rin asked, somewhat confused.

"Did either of you actually get hit by anything she shot at you?," Shirou asked in response.

Rin shook her head, as did Archer, begrudgingly.

"It was probably an illusion, then. She taunted Saber and I with one after I summoned him," Shirou concluded, before continuing.

"Though she didn't tell me more, I'm pretty sure there's only one woman named Morgan who would fight the way she did."

"Morgan le Fay. Obviously. Get to the point." Archer's words were snappish, but not inaccurate.

Shirou sighed. "Yeah. She probably has the power to shapeshift, given that Mr. Kawasaki had claw marks all over him, and she's obviously able to do _something_ to get all of those objects to follow her."

Rin echoed his sigh. "So we've got an incredibly dangerous Caster with unknown abilities, including at least two that make tracking her without directly finding her prana signature impossible. Great."

* * *

The room looked more or less as it did before the alliance was formed. Arthur stood guard by the door, his eyes sharp and his gauntlet clenched around what looked to be air. Archer slouched, scowling, against the wall, staring at the TV playing a special on the unexplained death of various criminals. Rin sat on the chair in front of the bowman, deep in thought. Shirou was pacing, his feet unconsciously tracing out the image of the left knight on the carpet.

"Shirou, would you be willing to speak with me in private?," Arthur asked, disturbing the silence.

"Huh? Oh, sure. Let's go to the kitchen, I should probably get started on dinner. Follow me." Shirou turned and Arthur followed, taking a glance at the other master-servant pair on his way out. Rin seemed to have come to a revelation of sorts, and was deep in conversation with Archer.

They passed by two of the guest bedrooms on the floor, crossing through the stately dining room before reaching the kitchen. It was furnished ornately, with a floor of alternating silver and white tiles, an island made of marble with its own sink in the middle. There were teak cabinets with two images of cups engraved on its doors, and a crown engraved on the drawer above them. Both sinks were stainless steel, though the faucets were stylized with the same engravings of the cup. The dishwasher, stove, refrigerator, and microwave were somewhat incongruous with the aesthetic, each colored white with black accents.

Shirou opened one of the cabinets and in series pulled out a wok, a series of measuring cups, a pot, and a pasta roller, leaving them all on the counter. He rummaged through another cabinet, finding the strong flour, sesame oil, soy sauce, and olive oil he wanted, placing them next to the other items.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Arthur?," Shirou asked as he hunted through the spice cabinet for ginger, miso, and soy sauce.

"Before anything else, I would request that you refer to me as Saber at all times, until and unless my identity is fully compromised," Arthur stated, an edge of seriousness to his voice. "Though we are now allied with Archer and his master, I do not trust them, especially not Archer."

"That makes two of us," Shirou replied, grabbing a clove of garlic before opening the fridge, hunting for a selection of vegetables. "He seems to strongly dislike me for whatever reason, and the feeling is slowly becoming mutual."

"Oh? That is rather interesting. In my case, I have the sense that I know him from somewhere, but do not recall the place or time. Taking into account a different topic that we need to discuss with all haste, that is a very poor omen," Arthur stated, fascinated by the variety of vegetables Shirou removed.

"And what is that topic, exactly?," asked the magus, engaged in a hunt for raw pork and previously-made chicken broth in the upper reaches of the refrigerator.

"This is not the first time I have been a servant in a grail war. I was last summoned in the war preceeding this one by your father, Kiritsugu," Arthur bluntly responded.

Shirou froze.

"Repeat that, please." His voice was calm, but his mind was in turmoil.

 _My father was involved in one of these? When? How? Why didn't he tell me?_ , he thought.

"I was summoned by Kiritsugu Emiya and Irisviel von Einzbern to participate in the Fourth Grail War. However," Arthur hastened to add, "I retain no memories of the war beyond that of the immediate events surrounding my summoning."

"And that's why you know more than other servants would? Because you've experienced this whole thing before?," Shirou asked, resuming his search for the broth, the pork secured and placed on the counter.

"Precisely. It is also why I am wary of Archer. If a portion of my mind is telling me that I have met him before, but I do not know where, it is likely that he too was a servant in that war," Arthur spoke, the clipped tone of his words betraying his annoyance over his missing memories.

"Alright. We'll have to hope that your memories return, and weren't ruined due to the abnormal manner in which you were summoned." Shirou said, finally locating the broth.

Arthur agreed, saying as much. He paused.

"Master, I believe that now is as good a time as any to go over some of the abilities I didn't mention while we were outside."

Shirou waved him on with the hand not being used to mince the garlic, ginger, and pork.

Arthur nodded in turn, staring at the sheer variety of items on the counter. "As with most servants, I am able to detect prana signatures, giving me a rough knowledge of any other approaching servants or magi. Unfortunately, my ability to distinguish individual signatures is quite weak: were I to be summoned into the Caster class for whatever reason, it would likely be much stronger."

"Anything else I should know about servants as a whole, before we get into your own abilities?," Shirou asked as he began to knead the flour into dough, having added water to it as Arthur expounded on his capabilities.

"Yes. By reaching your consciousness out to the prana flow between us, you are able to communicate with me telepathically, as well as see through my eyes, should you so desire," Arthur said. "I recommend doing this to scout the area, if needed, keeping yourself from danger."

"I have no intention of forcing you into dangerous situations on your lonesome, Saber," Shirou said, continuing his comment to prevent Arthur from getting a word in edgewise.

"I'd like to try the telepathy right now, if that's okay with you?," Shirou requested.

"Certainly," Arthur said.

Shirou concentrated on the flow of prana from him to his servant, forcing his thoughts towards it.

 _"Did it work?,"_ he thought.

 _"It did indeed_ ," came Arthur's response. _"You should also be aware that this telepathic communication is not limited by distance."_

 _"Alright,"_ Shirou thought back before switching to speech once more.

"Is there anything else to know?," he asked, returning to working the dough.

"No, I do not believe so. Would you prefer to finish this conversation after you have finished preparing dinner?"

"Yeah. I'd hate to waste these ingredients by not focusing enough on an important step."

Arthur watched with interest as Shirou ran the dough through the pasta roller again and again, until, satisfied with its length and thickness, he took a knife to it to create udon. He filled the pot with boiling water and placed the udon in it until satisfied, straining then chilling the noodles. At the same time, he added oil to the wok, lightly fried the ginger, pork, and garlic, added carrots, celery, and cabbage, and stirred. Shirou then poured the broth into the wok, mixing in soy sauce and sugar. He turned down the heat and added miso, letting it melt, finally turning back to an amused Arthur.

"You seem to enjoy cooking," the king observed.

"My father was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen, my current legal guardian might be even worse, and I knew how to read when I was rescued by my dad. Many, many cookbooks later, here I am," Shirou explained.

"Rescued?," questioned Arthur.

"Yeah, I'm not Kiritsugu's biological son. We think my parents died in the Fuyuki fire, whoever they were, and he adopted me," Shirou said as he scrunched his face in thought, absentmindedly removing the noodles from their ice bath. "You said something about remembering Irisviel von Einzbern, right?"

"That is correct."

"She was my father's wife; he never told me how she died, though given what you just told me I'd guess it probably involved the grail war. This place used to be her family's, though I suppose they gave it to my dad as a wedding present or something," Shirou stated, slowly stirring the soup.

"They actually had a kid, Illyasviel, I think her name was, but Irisviel's family refused to let Kiritsugu see her. He tried sneaking into their place a few times, but I don't believe he managed it. I think part of the reason my father adopted me in the first place was to try to replace her, actually," Shirou said, turning off the heat and adding a bit of sesame oil.

"Alright, we have to wait a bit for the temperature of everything to even out a bit," he said, turning to face the king, "so let's talk about your abilities."

"Very well. You saw me summon Clyfodran, sword of Bors, yes?"

Shirou nodded.

"I do not possess that specific noble phantasm; however, I have the ability, when in dire need, to summon the heroic spirits of the knights of the round table to my side. It requires an immense amount of prana, such that, should I utilize it, the both of us would likely be incapacitated for half a day, if not longer."

 _Incredibly powerful, but liable to take both Arthur and I out of commission. Got it,_ Shirou thought to himself.

"That is admittedly quite strong, but it doesn't really explain why you can summon their swords," Shirou stated, finally pouring in the chilled noodles.

"Do you recall my words regarding the origin of noble phantasms, Shirou?," asked Arthur.

The magus nodded. "They are reflections of your life and deeds, granting you power either directly or indirectly."

"Correct. There exists a body of tales on the knights of the round table. From slaying monsters, to winning wars, to finding the very grail itself, the deeds of these brave men grant them residence in the throne of heroes. Each man, on his own, is a paragon. And yet...," Arthur paused.

The monarch stood tall, directing the full force of himself outwards. "And yet, to whom did they swear fealty? To whose table did they link their very souls? The mythos is Arthurian, and the works of my knights are as much a part of my legend as those done by my hand. From Caradoc to Erec, from Kay to Perceval, their deeds retain a dual nature: even as they enhanced their own status, they exalted mine! Some existed in my realm whose selves surpassed my dominion, those such as Merlin Ambrosius whose works are beyond my claim. But of the others, of the knights of my table? They are as much a part of me as are my sword and crown."

His gauntlet flashed a rainbow of colors, the weapon clutched in his hand shifting from blade to blade: in one moment a shortsword with a noxious green blade, two serpent's fangs at its end, in another a rapier glowing a brilliant white, its length etched in the letters of the celestial tongue. Their names seared themselves across Shirou's mind, stabbing themselves into a hill he only vaguely perceived: _Pysguread, Teyrnolfod, Maircllewr, Rhilltawdd, Arondight, Fwrhylin,_ _Setarfoad, Galatine, Ysgrumelfa,_ _Treildfigen, and Wyneidraich.  
_

King Arthur drew himself inward. "That is why I can summon their blades as easily as my own, for in a very real sense, they are mine. Their deeds, their heroics, their very selves: they are but aspects of my own legend."

Shirou was blindsided by the vehemence in his servant's voice. The words he spoke were true, but this was by far the most eloquent the man had been in the hour they had known one another.

 _It's mildly terrifying, to be honest_ , he thought. For the first time since the summoning, he saw the golden-haired man before him not as a warrior, but as a king.

Arthur reverted his gauntlet to its normal form, a small and sheepish smile resting on his face. "I apologize for that display, master. I am incredibly proud of what I and my knights accomplished in our lives, and in expressing my joy I may have gone slightly overboard."

"No, no, it's fine," Shirou said, his head still reeling from the eleven-fold influx of information. He checked the soup. _Still too hot._

"Do you have any other weapons? Other than Excalibur, I mean," Shirou asked, his aching head making him uncertain that he wanted a positive answer.

Arthur frowned. "I do possess other blades belonging to my knights, but beyond those, I do not. It seems that my dagger and lance do not fit my class, and have been taken from me."

Shirou sighed. "Oh well. Guess we're not going to be able to pass you off as Lancer or a particularly bold Assassin, then. Is there anything specific that you feel needs to be said about Excalibur, or does 'faerie sword without equal' just about cover it?"

"I maintain it's anonymity by sheathing it in air," Arthur pointed to his right gauntlet, apparently clutching at nothing. Shirou felt a jolt as prana drained from him at an accelerated rate, barely making out a golden glow between the swirling winds.

"Its primary function is indeed as a sword without peer. Excalibur can also release variably sized bursts of energy at my enemies, the size and power of which might range from annihilating an enemy in my immediate vicinity to splitting the sky in twain; however, its power remains locked by my own design."

"Why would you lock your own power away?," asked Shirou, dipping a spoon in the soup and testing its temperature once more. _Almost there._

"Because all weapons can be taken, Shirou. Morgan once stole it from me and tried to ransom it in exchange for the death of Guinivere. Though Lancelot rode forth and retrieved my blade, it was agreed that leaving its power unchecked would likely lead to future events of a similar nature."

 _I really shouldn't ask this_ , he thought, _but I also really want to know._

"This may be insensitive, but..." Shirou hesitated.

"I will not know if it is insensitive or not until you ask the question," Arthur said, smiling.

"You're right, I suppose. I would like to know this: how could Mordred have defeated you at Camlann when you possessed such a blade?," Shirou asked.

Arthur's smile dropped off his face. The king suddenly looked tired and worn, a stunning contrast to his earlier radiant nobility.

"Do you know what my wish – the desire that caused the grail to summon me to this war – is?," the king asked rhetorically, his voice soft. "It is not rule everlasting, nor is it desire for abdication. I wear my crown heavy, but I wear it well. No, it is nothing so grand. It is to have been a father to Mordred rather than a king; to have raised him as my own, and not shunted him to the side."

Arthur paused, wiping the beginning of a tear from his eye before continuing.

"It is wrong to be an illegitimate child, I said to myself, ignoring that I too was the child of two who were unwed. He will learn humility this way, I thought. But every time I praised Gareth over him, he despaired. Every time I played games with Ywain in his place, he grew resentful. My son grew up unloved, a veritable exile in his own home. His rebellion was in the end my fault; how could I in good conscience raise my peerless blade against the man I created? No, I would grant him a fair fight: it was the very least he deserved from me, the parent who wasn't."

The king sighed. "Neither myself nor Mordred truly desired war. We sent messages of peace to one another. But one foolish knight raised his blade in the company of my counterpart, a lifetime of well-earned mistrust gave rise to a single grievous error, and we bled each other on the fields of Camlann, I mortally wounded, my son dead."

Arthur looked at Shirou, an expression of pleading unsuited for the man engraved on his face. "That is why I must win this war. That is why I fight. I fight so that I shall never have reason to raise my sword against my son. I fight because, in my negligence, my only child died in the arms of his father. I fight because for all the people I saved through my reign, the one I damned matters most."

Was that why _his_ father clung to him so, Shirou wondered; was Arthur's regret powerful enough to turn the magus killer into a caring father?

 _Honestly, I think it might have been._ He checked the soup. _Perfect._

* * *

"Dinner was very nice," Rin remarked, fiddling with one of her gems as they walked from the dining room, the sapphire glimmering with arcane light. "I didn't know you were also an orphan, twice-over at that."

"Well, I don't remember anything before my father rescued me from the fire, so the first time doesn't really count as far as I'm concerned," Shirou replied, opening the door for Rin, Archer and Arthur having faded into their prana forms. "We're now going to the church to see...Kirei Kotomine, right?"

"Yes. He's the overseer of the fifth grail war, the person in charge of making sure things don't get out of hand; apparently his father performed in that role for the fourth and third wars. He's also a priest – not that he believes in god – and, to my disgust, my legal guardian," Rin explained, a scowl on her face.

"So you're bringing me to him to register as another contestant?," Shirou asked, avoiding the last two statements brought up by his fellow magus.

Rin sighed. "Exactly. I just really don't want to deal with him."

"I've noticed," Shirou said, drily. "Any particular reason for that?"

"He's an absolute sadist who enjoys nothing more than mocking me," Rin replied. "He's also the one who formally taught me magecraft, so I know him too well to be fooled by the veneer of kindness he wears."

 _Sounds like a pretty awful guy_ , Shirou thought. _I'll stay wary around him_.

They traveled in silence, neither having much to say, and they arrived at the church within a short period of time.

The church looked like a standard house of worship, with an ornate cross on the roof, stained glass windows providing a view of the pews and lectern, and a mixed brick and wood exterior, painted off-white. The decorations on the path to the church doors were sparse, a few bushes and trees isolated in a sea of uncut grass and weeds, and a weather-worn statue of Mary holding her child. The building looked old, and the newer paint couldn't cover the rot taking place along the lower edges of the structure.

Shirou opened the door for Rin, who entered with a nod of thanks in the boy's direction.

The man they sought stood calmly in front of them, an analytical gaze sweeping the two teenage magi. His hair was black and moderately long, reaching to his shoulders, and he wore a blue coat around black priestly garments.

He smiled in Rin's direction, though Shirou noted that his eyes held no trace of good humor.

"Is this our seventh master?," Kirei asked her, to which she responded with a nod.

"Is he your boyfriend?," the priest continued, a glimmer in his eyes.

"Wh-what?," sputtered Rin and Shirou in concert.

"He-he's not my–" Rin squeaked out, her face red.

"She's not my girlfriend, Mr. Kotomine," Shirou said. "We are schoolmates, however, and I'd at least call her a friend."

Rin glared at the priest, who kept his smile.

"Very well. What is your name, not-boyfriend?," Kirei asked, turning to Shirou and ignoring Rin's attempt at optically-transmitted murder.

"Shirou Emiya, Mr. Kotomine," he replied. Kirei's expression lit up when Shirou stated his last name.

"Well, Mr. Emiya, this war must be kept entirely secret. Attempts to harm anyone other than fellow masters or servants will not be tolerated. Am I clear?," the priest asked, to which Shirou responded with a nod.

"If your servant dies, you may come to this church, where I will grant you sanctuary," Kirei continued, "further, any attempts to assault defeated masters will be considered as if you were harming an unrelated innocent."

He paused. "That covers pretty much everything important. I wish you luck, Mr. Emiya."

The priest turned from them, and Shirou caught sight of a red pattern on Kirei's right arm as the priest's coat twirled around him.

Rin turned to him, her face again impassive, and spoke emphatically. "Let's leave. Now."

"Sure, let's go," Shirou said, beginning to understand exactly why Rin disliked her guardian.

They continued in silence, though Shirou pondered the crimson marks he saw on Kirei's arm. _Those looked...almost like command seals,_ he thought.

He looked down at his right hand in the light of a nearby streetlamp. The command seals were shaped like a sword with two chess knights on its sides, the sword surrounded by an aura and the knights with blank skin for eyes and a dot of red for a pupil.

"Rin, did you also notice that Kirei's right arm looks like it has command seals on it?," Shirou asked, breaking the silence between them.

"As the overseer of the war, he has the ability to give out extra command seals," Rin replied. "However, I know those seals are on his left forearm, not his right. Are you certain that you saw them on his right arm?"

"Not entirely, but I think it might be a poor idea to take his offer of hospitality if Archer or Saber fall in battle," Shirou said.

"I wasn't planning to in the first place, but if you're right, we should try our best to avoid the church entirely."

"Agreed."

The short conversation over, they walked for another 5 minutes before Shirou heard a voice in his head.

" _Shirou, I detect two people coming your way, both of whom have immense amounts of prana,_ " came the voice of Arthur. " _Be careful_."

Shirou looked over to Rin, who seemed to be engaging in a mental conversation with Archer.

As they slowed down, Shirou heard steps from across the street, followed by the sight of two people. One was a massive, hulking man in an exquisitely tailored blue suit. He had long black hair reaching to the small of his back, a complexion more tan than that of Archer, and a mildly impassive look on his face. The man carried an ornate sword with him, though Shirou did not recognize it as anything but a well-forged blade. His eyes were narrowed, some unfathomable degree of calculation going on behind his brown gaze.

On his shoulders sat a small girl with long silver hair and bright red eyes. She wore a purple blouse over a pink shirt, a pink skirt and purple boots rounding out her ensemble. She was smiling, and looked rather adorable for it.

The girl caught sight of Shirou and Rin, hurried her companion forward, and widened her smile. She dismounted and waved at the two magi across the road.

"Hi, big brother!," she said to a confused Shirou. "Are you ready to die?"

She smiled still, but the look of hatred in her eyes belied her innocent expression. Beside Rin, Archer and Arthur faded into view, ignored by the small girl.

Shirou thought for a second, then peered closely at the girl.

"Illyasviel?," he asked, staring directly at her.

"Yep!," the girl responded cheerfully, and in the same tone of voice, gave an order.

"Berserker, kill everyone." The hulking man gave a nod and stretched, slightly tearing the suit.

He turned to the four on the other side of the street, smirked, drew his sword, and charged.

* * *

 **AN:** Some people seem to think that this is Saber from the Prototype series. Well, while it _sort of_ is, this is actually the 6th century Welsh/English warrior king from such works as the Historia Regum Britanniae and Le Morte d'Arthur, or at least as close as I can get while remaining in Nasu's world. Well, kinda, at least. Hopefully. It's complicated, and, loathe as I am to say even this much, a plot point.

Oh, and I think the Udon Miso Soup would taste pretty good, but I've never made it and came up with the recipe/steps by remembering things from watching too many episodes of Iron Chef. So, uh, don't use this as a cookbook.


	4. Chapter 4

Shirou took the precious few seconds between Berserker initiating his sprint and his imminent crash into Shirou's lines to try to come up with a plan. He saw Rin frozen to the spot, Arthur moving forward to intercept the long-haired man, and Archer...just standing in place?

 _We're being attacked by what I'm going to assume is the physically strongest servant in this competition, and he's just standing there?!_ , Shirou mentally screamed, releasing his stress in an instant. He twisted his head to keep the enemy in his sight while looking at his allies.

"Rin, go after Illyasviel!," he shouted, Rin staring at him for a second before she nodded and focused on the enemy magus. "Non-lethally!," he added after a quarter-second's pause.

"Archer, get on a building and do the same," he directed, though it seemed that Archer either didn't hear him or, more likely, ignored him entirely.

 _"Arthur_ , _we'll try to stop Berserker together while Rin and hopefully Archer take out Illyasviel,"_ Shirou transmitted.

 _"Understood, though I strongly encourage you to assist Archer and his master while I hold Berserker off on my lonesome,"_ Arthur replied, his gauntlet glowing green.

When the light faded, it revealed a sword shaped almost like a shortened trident, though the length of the blade was sharp instead of rounded. The blade itself shined a pale green from some inner light, its bright glow darkening at the tips of the two excess prongs. It looked non-metallic, as though cut directly from emerald rather than forged. Its hilt was patterned after a viper's scales, overlapping plates of iron giving the impression of a melanistic adder's hide. Its short pommel was shaped in the form of a snake's head, the iron facsimile enhanced by twin rubies slotted where a living snake would have eyes. _Wyneidraich, sword of Sir Caradoc Short-Arm,_ Shirou's mind supplied, _so named for–_

Shirou winced, ignoring the pain in his head as he muttered "trace on," reinforcing his body. His eyesight sharpened as his reaction time halved, and he leapt backwards to Arthur's location. He thought for a second, and the same inscribed blade he'd used to prove his superior projection came into his hands, the meager knowledge of its 10th century wielder jumping to his mind.

 _"Not a chance, Arth_ ur," Shirou responded mentally, _"What kind of hero would I be if I abandoned my closest ally against my enemies?_ _ _I'm sure he's strong, but there's no way that he's–_ "_

Shirou stopped thinking as he bit down a scream. He felt a reinforced rib crack as Berserker bodychecked him to the ground, the huge man focused entirely on Arthur.

The magus steadied himself, risking a glance to the side. Rin was peppering Illyasviel with curses, though the smaller girl had formed bird-like constructs out of her hair and was using them to block Rin's gandr shots.

Archer was nowhere to be seen, though a glint of reflected moonlight on top of one of the houses showed Shirou that he was likely covering his master, a suspicion confirmed by a sudden spray of arrows in Illya's direction. The distraction worked, Illyasviel taking a hit from a curse when she moved one of her two hair-constructs to defend herself from the arrow storm. She grimaced and formed a third construct in the form of a sword, sending it at the location from which the arrows originated.

Berserker had engaged with Arthur in the time it had taken for Shirou to stand, and was raining blows on the king with his sword, Arthur parrying at speeds well-past inhuman. The dance of blades would have mesmerized a normal person, but Shirou was anything but.

Shirou dashed towards the battle, ducking under the swing Berserker sent his way. Shirou used his reinforced muscles to dodge, knowing that parrying would be fruitless. He swiped at Berserker's legs, leaping from side to side to prevent the far stronger warrior from landing a hit, but a moment's hesitation cost him, a backhand sending him flying straight towards Rin and Illyasviel's duel.

He groaned but leapt back to his feet, dodging an arrow and a curse while parrying an incoming hair-sword as he ran back towards Arthur's duel.

The two servants had locked their blades and the sound of grinding stone filled the air, flakes of green falling from Wyneidraich as the overwhelming strength of its opponent dug deep into its emerald blade.

Arthur broke the stalemate and ducked, slashing at Berkerser's legs. The huge man jumped the slash and aimed his short fall, seeking to stab Arthur's sword arm through his steel armor using his strength and the minor downward momentum of his leap. Arthur recovered in time, twisting his body so that the bigger man's sword slid past his armor, screeching across but not penetrating.

"You are quite good," said Illyasviel's servant, his words tinged in an accent Shirou didn't know, his eyes narrowed. His suit was littered with small cuts, though he did not sport any wounds.

"You as well," replied Arthur, his armor similarly scratched.

The two disengaged, Shirou taking the minor pause to throw his sword at Illya's servant's back. The man swatted the weapon away, but the slight distraction was the intent, Arthur landing a strike on the bigger man's sword arm in the tenth of a second between the man's reaction and recovery.

Berserker grimaced and shook his arm, but looked no worse for wear. "A fine strategy, but my strength cannot be taken from me so easily," he said, a small smile now on his face.

Arthur remained silent as Shirou hissed "trace on," forming two thin daggers. The magus threw both of them at Berserker's feet, then formed two more, repeating the process. Berserker didn't remain idle, jumping not towards Arthur but towards Shirou, who barely dodged, a line of red appearing across his chest. Berserker raised his sword again, but was forced to dodge by Arthur, who thrust his sword towards the larger man.

A white glow and a diverting strike from the servant of the blade showed that Arthur had swapped weapons, this time using a silver rapier with glowing white runes along its length, a second set dark beneath them. Its hilt was stylized to resemble a fish, the protective portion thereof inscribed with Latin words that Shirou could not read. _Pysguread, sword of Sir Perceval_ , he thought to himself. _Incarnating the holiness of the Fisher–_

 _Not now!,_ Shirou thought, his brain's short lockup costing him a gash on his left arm courtesy of Berserker, whose gaze hit the magus' command seals, the huge man smirking in response.

"Oh? Are you the master of the knight?," he asked Shirou, casually deflecting a thrust towards his left shoulder from Arthur, wincing in pain when a mirror of the attack hit his right.

Shirou had an idea. Leaping backwards to avoid being sliced in half, he spoke. "No, I'm the master of the servant about to kill your master, actually."

The man's eyes widened as he ever so slightly turned his gaze to the battle going on behind him, opening his guard for a fraction of a second. Rin was currently on the defensive, shooting finn shots at the bird creatures pestering her, while Archer was jumping back and forth between roofs, slicing off strands of hair from the two swords following him as he passed by.

Arthur seized the opening, thrusting his sword to the hilt in Berserker's shoulder, a similar wound appearing on the opposite side of the larger man's body.

Berserker whirled around and Arthur gripped his blade to retain control, thereby tearing through the muscle in both of the larger man's shoulders. To Shirou's surprise, the wounds didn't seem to even bother the servant, vanishing entirely in a second. Distracted, Shirou failed to notice the swing coming his way, and he fell to the ground again, clutching his left shoulder, a follow-up strike from Berserker's sword not tearing it open only because Shirou had twisted himself to be hit by the flat of the blade in place of its edge.

"Divine weaponry won't hurt me, either," said the man, speaking to Arthur but focusing on Shirou, who desperately projected the longsword he'd used earlier, the blade shattering as Shirou narrowly deflected the downwards strike from Berserker. Shirou rolled away from the man, projecting a wooden sword and slamming it against the Berserker's leg. It shattered instantly, but the minor flinch from the man gave Arthur time to swap his blade and strike.

Arthur growled and his gauntlet glowed grey, a mostly plain iron broadsword with a stone hilt, its blade speckled with black, appearing in his hands – _Treildfigen,_ _ _the humbling blade,_ sword of Sir Kay –_ and swung upwards in the same motion. Berserker's back was nicked by the blade, his attention focused on Shirou, though his supernatural reflexes allowed him to dodge the worst of the strike. The wound seemed to deepen as the magus watched, though he didn't get the chance to do so for long, Berserker stabbing his sword directly between the boy's legs and withdrawing it in one fluid motion, the street below cracked by the force of the blow.

Berserker staggered for a second as the wound on his back bled freely, but turned and hurled the sword in his hands at Arthur, the motion catching the king off guard and forcing him to just barely dodge. The escape with not without price, however, and his left vambrace and the skin beneath were torn to pieces.

The staggered king was off guard, which was exactly Berserker's intention. He grabbed Shirou by the arm and threw him directly at Arthur, the latter's instinctive reaction only barely stopped before splitting his master in half. He dropped the sword, caught and dropped Shirou, and turned to ward off Berserker, another blade already formed in his hand to combat the onrushing but unarmed man. This one was preceded by his gauntlet glowing yellow, signaling the disappearance of Kay's sword by the appearance of another, the newly present tri-bladed weapon not even heeded by the onrushing servant. It was shaped similar to a normal longsword, though its hilt was covered in yellow pelt ringed with brown fur, mimicking the mane of a lion. Its blades were placed in parallel, each a speckled grey color, and Shirou knew its name to be _Maircllewr, blade of Sir Ywain, the Lion's companion, who–_

He yelled in pain, unheeded by both his servant and that opposing, and shook slightly, his spine burning. He grit his teeth and rose, summoning his favored longsword once more and reinforcing its blade as best he could. Berserker was engaged in a furious game of cat and mouse with Arthur, dodging the king's swings and retaliating with punches, denting Arthur's once pristine armor.

Arthur took a blow and used the momentum to spin, slashing at Berserker, who grinned, the blades passing straight through his body, as if not present at all. "Lions are no threat to me," Berserker remarked, his tone triumphant. Arthur's surprise cost him, his left arm nearly wrenched out of its socket by Berserker, forcing the servant to drop his sword.

Shirou struck then, his triply densified blade stabbed into the wound caused by Treildfigen. Berserker gave a cry of agony and spun. The movement wrenched Shirou sideways, his sword lost, but caused Berserker to drop Arthur in the process.

"You really are quite annoying, you know that?," Berserker said, kicking Arthur's currently kneeling body away and baring down on Shirou. The magus' eyes widened, his servant out of the fray for a precious few seconds. The huge man wrenched the nearest streetlamp out of the ground as Shirou caught his breath, both of their gazes flashing to Rin shooting curses like bullets at Illyasviel, Rin's servant keeping all four of Illyasviel's hair constructs at bay with ease.

"Your servant seems a bit too dangerous to leave with my master, so I'm going to have to get rid of you. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry," said the man, thrusting the streetlamp downwards as though it were a lance. Shirou desperately sought a way out of the situation, barely projecting a dagger in time to nudge the lamp through his shoulder in place of his heart. He gasped as the pain hit him, barely retaining consciousness, and Berserker prepared for another strike.

 _I've gotta do this_ , he thought, _or I'm dead_.

He flipped a mental switch and focused hard on the contours of Kay's sword, from the speckled black on the blade to the stone pommel, hoping against hope that he could replicate the event of hours prior. He visualized it as time slowed for him, the sword appearing in his mind. He saw the intricate runes carved into each inch of the black on the blade – _Obsidian,_ Shirou realized, understanding at once their purpose. He felt the blade settle in his hands, the life and history of Sir Kay following. He saw a boy grow up in the court of Sir Ector, a man wrench a sword from stone, and a king lead a charge towards the men of Rome. He felt the life, the power, and the unquestioned loyalty of Kay flow into him, and shouted, his twinned voice distracting even the three participants in the other battle.

"Trace on!"

In his hands was Treildfigen, its outline traced in black fire. The runes in obsidian were glittering, and its stone hilt glowed white.

 _"Shirou!,"_ shouted Arthur over their mental connection. _"Are you..."_ Arthur's mouth dropped open and he halted his charge towards Berserker, the king noticing the shift in his master.

 _"I'll take it from here, Arthur,"_ replied something that was both Shirou and another, as he slashed the telephone pole in half, stunning Berserker, who leapt away from the followup slash aimed at his unarmored chest. He stared at Shirou uncertainly, before a grin took over his features.

"Well, isn't that interesting! I see that I'll have to get serious," the man exclaimed, grabbing the two pieces of pole and holding them as though they were clubs, his posture and stance shifting to perfectly accommodate the new weaponry.

Shirou stood then, holding the two-handed sword in a tight grip, the hole in his shoulder healing rapidly. He motioned Berserker forward with his sword, the servant gladly leaping to just out of Shirou's extended reach. Arthur finally reached Shirou and stood next to him, his hands back to normal and the invisible Excalibur in his grip. The servant and master nodded to one another and charged, but all three stopped when Illyasviel shouted, still engaged in dodging Rin's gandr barrage and now fighting Archer with seven swords. Her skin lit up in bright red, tracing out an extensive pattern of magic circuits along her body.

"Berserker, I command you to kill them both. Use your mad enhancement!", yelled the girl, obviously impatient and angered. She gave a shriek as she conjured another bird to block a finn shot aimed directly at her face, the construct falling to bits within seconds.

On the other side of the street, Berserker stiffened and began to snarl, his features twisting in an animalistic manner.

 _"Master, this is incredibly dangerous. I highly suggest that we retreat as best we can,"_ Arthur transmitted urgently.

 _"No, my liege, we shall stand and fight,"_ said Shirou, who didn't notice the mode of address used.

They had no more time to speak, however, as Berserker began to rush them. However, before he took more than 2 steps forward, he screamed something in a language neither king nor knight understood and wrenched one eye out of his head. His now bloodied hand fell to his side as a torrent of blood burst from the empty socket, but when he stood and faced his opponents again, he showed signs of sentience.

"I refuse to be commanded against my will," said the calmed Berserker. "I spoke to Illya about not doing this, but it seems she either forgot or refused to listen."

The man gave a sigh and looked at his suit, torn to absolute pieces by the fight. "I have no desire to fight anymore tonight, and I believe I should go and stop my master from doing something incredibly stupid."

He nodded towards Arthur and Shirou, who let the sword fade from his hands and dropped to his knees, coughing blood. Arthur was instantly beside him, wrapping his left arm around his master, heedless of the pain he underwent to do so.

"Shirou, are you okay?," asked the king, obviously concerned.

Shirou coughed again before nodding, spent both physically and mentally.

The duo turned their gazes to the other side of the street, where Illyasviel was futilely resisting her servant's attempt at grabbing her. Rin and Archer just watched, obviously amused. Both looked almost untouched, Rin sporting only a few tears in her red turtleneck and Archer entirely unhurt.

"Il–" Shirou coughed, stumbling slightly, but gave another attempt to form words. "Illyasviel!"

The girl in question heard him and glared in his direction.

"I'll kill you some other time, brother. My servant is apparently refusing to be one." Her attempt at a growl was more adorable than scary, but Shirou nevertheless felt the weight of her disdain.

He pressed on regardless.

"Why do you hate me so much?," he asked.

"Because my father completely forgot about me, instead deciding to raise _you_. He abandoned me!" Illya's glare faded into a frown, and the beginning of tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "Why? Why would he do that? Was I not good enough for him?"

 _Abandon her? He spent thousands of dollars flying to Germany every year, just to try to see her!_ , he thought to himself. _Something here doesn't add up._

"He didn't abandon you, Illyasviel. Even after he adopted me, he tried to charter a flight to Germany every single year. He told me that the bounded fields around your mansion never let him in," Shirou explained. "He loved you dearly."

"But...but my grandfather said..." Illya looked even closer to tears than before. "If the bounded fields didn't let him in, why didn't he break them down? I know he was more than strong enough to do that; he was the magus killer!"

Shirou sighed and walked over to the other side of the street, Arthur trailing behind him. He winced with every step, feeling the echo of his wounds even as he healed from them. Ahead, Rin and Archer parted to let him through, her face worried and his impassive.

The magus stood, peering up at a petrified Illya, the pale girl still held in Berserker's arms.

"He was very sick, Illyasviel," Shirou said, his voice soft. "I don't know exactly what it was, but he got weaker every single year after he adopted me. By the end, he didn't even have the strength to stand, and he died in a hospital bed just 4 years ago."

Illya's lips were trembling by this point.

"B-but..."

"Do you know what his last words to me were? They were about his regret. His regret that he had lost you to your grandfather. His regret that he couldn't save you, like he saved me." Shirou smiled softly, though the expression looked tired and worn.

"He loved you, Illyasviel."

The girl turned into her servant's bloodied chest and began crying. The large, long-haired man awkwardly patted her on the back while looking pleadingly at the other 4 people present, asking by expression alone for someone else to deal with the girl. Shirou motioned for him to set her down, and Berserker did, whereupon Shirou hugged Illyasviel, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shoulder.

* * *

5 minutes later, Illyasviel's cries stopped, though she kept her face buried in her brother's shoulder, wrapping her arms around him to reciprocate his hug.

"Illyasviel, are you feeling any better now?," Shirou asked, his hands still tracing circles over her back.

"Call me Illya," came the response, the girl seemingly happy to remain in their current position.

"Alright, Illya," Shirou said, a tired smile on his face as his adrenaline drained from his body. He felt the last few hours catch up to him, and a discrete analysis of his circuits showed that, despite retaining a fair bit of prana, he was certainly in no shape to fight another battle.

"Illya, I have to go home and rest, and I'm pretty sure everyone else here feels the same way. Your servant–" Shirou nodded to the man, whose wounds seemed a lot less serious outside of the fight, "did quite the number on my servant and I."

Berserker seemed amused, noticing the information Shirou had intentionally let slip. "I take take it you were lying completely about whose servant was whose, then?"

Shirou nodded, the motion slightly jostling his younger sister, the small girl refusing to let go.

"It's probably not very smart to correct that assumption from a tactical perspective, but I have no plans of fighting against you and Illya unless we're the only ones left. I assume she feels similarly."

The aforementioned Illya nodded against Shirou's shoulder, reluctantly detaching herself.

"Can I come and see you tomorrow?," she asked, looking up pleadingly at Shirou.

"Of course you can. How about you and your servant come over for dinner?," he responded, smiling down at her.

"I'd...I'd like that," she replied, trying to reciprocate his smile, the effect ruined by the tears and blood on her face.

"Alright, goodbye then, and I'll see you tomorrow!," Shirou said as he walked away, turning his head to see Berserker place Illya on his shoulders once more before bounding off into the night.

Rin and Archer parted with Shirou and his servant on the way home, and the group of two walked the path to Shirou's house, making their way in.

"Alright, Arthur, we'll talk more in the morning. For now, let's hope that my dad's clothing fits you, because I assume you probably want to wear something other than your armor," Shirou said.

"That would be a good idea; I'm certain I can find the clothing in question on my own, however, so you may prepare for bed without helping me," Arthur said, vanishing into invisibility.

 _I could really use a shower before bed,_ Shirou thought, looking down at the shallow wounds and blood covering most of his body. _In fact, I'm just going to take one right now._

He yawned as he got into the shower, cleaned off the accumulated grime and blood, and put on his sleeping attire, prepared to fall asleep when he heard enthusiastic knocking coming from the direction of the living room.

Shirou opened the front door and widened his eyes. Standing in front of him was Rin, carrying a suitcase and a box, with a very sour looking Archer following behind her, transporting two more boxes and a second suitcase.

"Rin...why are you here?," he asked, wanting nothing more than to go to bed.

"Because I'm going to be staying over at your house," Rin responded, sending a bright smile at her fellow magus, a small blush making its way to her face as she noticed his current lack of a shirt.

"Why?," he asked, the word conveying a complex mix of annoyance, curiosity, resignation, and happiness.

"Archer and I discussed this while you and Saber prepared dinner. We agreed that you were correct about there being safety in numbers, and decided that there was no sense in splitting up just because it was nighttime," Rin said, keeping her smile.

 _I seriously doubt that Archer agreed, and find it likely that 'Archer was browbeaten into agreeing' describes the situation better,_ Shirou thought drily, staring at the servant of the bow, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else, _but either way, Taiga is going to flip out.  
_

"If you can deal with my overprotective guardian when she comes over in the morning, I don't really mind," Shirou said, stifling a yawn, "it's not like I don't have enough room."

"I'm sure I can convince Ms. Fujimura that I was just...hmm. This may be harder than I thought," Rin mused. "How were you planning to explain Saber's presence to her?"

"I was going to claim he was an old co-worker of my father's," Shirou said, "and I guess I could excuse Archer the same way."

 _It's technically true, too,_ Shirou thought, suppressing a smirk.

The conversation over, the two magi and one servant filed into the house. Shirou showed Rin and Archer the location of their bedrooms – Rin dumping her five containers of items in hers – , one of the bathrooms, and the linen closet before tiredly making his way back to his room, lying on his futon, and falling asleep.

* * *

 **AN:** While the swords I'm using are mostly not actually extant in Arthurian myth, they are crystallizations of the legends surrounding their respective wielders. I named them and powered them by synthesizing their myths into offensive or defensive forms, translating various key words into Welsh, and coming up with a name from them. For Caradoc's sword Wyneidraich, for example, I used the Welsh for poison, snake, and arm, a reference to the tale of how he gained his moniker.


	5. Chapter 5

That night, Shirou dreamed of brotherhood. _  
_

 _The first thing he saw was himself, a translucent specter in the world around him. The second things he saw were two boys, a smaller one with blond hair and a larger one with red, galloping through deep woods colored vermilion and goldenrod by the turning of the season. The children laughed as they ran, evidently racing one another to their destination. As the children passed and Shirou forcibly followed, he noticed the thinning of trees, the foliage ending in hills of green grass and white flowers. The children paid no mind to the flora crushed underfoot as they continued their race, their destination coming into view over the crest of the next hill.  
_

 _It was a palatial estate, a motte-and-bailey styled castle held aloft on a tremendously large plateau, its sides ringed by stone walls with parapets spaced throughout. The keep itself was modest but grand, its lack of size made up for by the quality of its construction. The boys continued forward, dashing past a guardsman stationed by the gates more quickly than the grown man could react, entering into the sizeable bailey, well-trod grass giving way to stone underfoot. The two raced through, narrowly avoiding a patrolling guard, though the golden-haired boy seemed to be lagging slightly behind. Their track took them to the foot of the keep itself, and it seemed certain that the redhead would defeat the blond. But the redhead's speed decreased, his confidence in his victory his undoing, and the blond reached the door to the keep first after a final burst of speed.  
_

 _They were greeted by two men, at the entrance. One was a knight clad in steel chain, his hair and beard a deeper red than the boy's, and the other a magician in robes, his black beard and keen blue eyes seeking the blond. Both sported smiles, the knight's far less mischievous than the magician's, and the former of the men greeted the children with a nod. As they turned to go in, the magician waved his staff and the blond transformed into a golden dog, who, scowling in concentration, turned into a golden stag, his antlers small as befit his age. A pleased smile from the magician, a swing of his staff, and the boy was human once more._

 _The dream dissolved and reformed._

 _Shirou now stood intangible in a courtyard, again next to the redhead and the blond. They had grown significantly, the redhead nearly twice his previous size and the blond not far behind. The former sported a small beard, while the latter's face possessed the beginning of a similar adornment. The redhead dressed in shining steel scale mail, and the blond in plate mail forged of the same alloy. They stood in a line with many others similarly dressed, the small wounds and perspiration sported by all indicating an earlier fight or contest. The line moved forward as the man in front shouted in frustration and turned, scowling, from a sword stuck in stone.  
_

 _The stone seemed to be a plinth of marble, with words Shirou could not make out emblazoned on its side. The sword embedded in the stone was edged with a metal that looked but did not feel like gold, its light indigo interior bending to the outside as it reached the hilt, forming an empty crevice just above the crossguard. Golden metal formed that same guard, a groove splitting it vertically in two, its upper length engraved in letters of a language Shirou had never seen, and its grip was the same indigo of the blade. Its pommel featured a sun, two overlapping squares rotated ninety degrees from one another and a small elevated circle in the middle engraved on and extended from, respectively, the twice-depressed sphere of the component. Excalibur,_ Shirou realized, his knowledge of swords penetrating even this mystical dream, _but at the same time, it wasn't, not yet._

 _Both the redhead and the blond waited in nervous silence, the redhead tapping his foot and the blond staring ahead stoically as the line before them shrank, none of the men managing to so much as budge the blade from its place of rest. Finally, the redhead reached the front of the line and, gritting his teeth, began to pull. At the sword's refusal to escape its confines, the redhead concentrated, straining his muscles but accomplishing not the slightest change. He turned to his blond companion, who, trembling, placed a hand on the blade. It erupted in golden light as he drew it forth without resistance, the runes on its hilt and blade glowing a brilliant white. The redhead turned to his companion with a complex look of jealously, respect, and understanding, the blond simultaneously lifting his sword-holding arm to the sky. The massed knights knelt before the new king, whose face was clad in unflinching resolve.  
_

 _Once again, the dream dissolved, and once again, it reformed._

 _He stood transparent in a throne room, next to the blond and redhead for a third time. The blond sat armor-clad on a throne of silver birch twined with yew, his face now sporting a full beard. His redheaded companion stood just behind him, as did a man in light leather armor, a black beard streaked with silver on his face, and a clean-shaven man lacking an arm, his hair a light brown and his armor forged of iron. In front of the tableau stood a man garbed in well-woven cloth, his garments and general demeanor suggesting a degree of subservience to his movements. He held before them a lance wrapped in mottled green silk, its end sticking from the fabric and giving the appearance of a dripping fang, though no liquid fell from its tip. The golden-haired king on the throne bid the one-armed man forward, and he took the spear –_ _Gwydnawr_ , whispered Shirou's mind, _the nine-fold poison lance of Bedivere_ – _as the four nodded in thanks to the man in cloth._

 _The doors to the throne room burst open, a messenger carrying a letter sealed with wax dashing through the entrance. The seated blond directed the black-bearded man to read the message, an action the latter performed before turning to the former. He showed his liege the letter, and both men frowned before the king directed the brown-haired warrior to read the scroll. The expression of said warrior tightened, and he marched out of the room, a definite purpose to his steps. The blond let the paper fall to the floor and sighed, his expression sad but resolute. Shirou saw the name 'King Lot' on the page, but could not make out the rest before it was picked up by the red-haired knight, who crushed it in his hands, his anger obvious._

 _The dream dissolved and did not reform. Two legendary weapons stabbed themselves into a hill of diamond_.

* * *

Shirou awoke to the sound of Taiga Fujimura shouting. He yawned and arched his back, stretching his muscles, before looking over at his alarm clock. It read 7:13 AM.

 _Well, I guess I'll be skipping my morning exercises today,_ he thought sourly, standing up from his futon and turning off the currently ringing alarm clock. _Better go see what Taiga's yelling about, then ask Arthur about that dream.  
_

A tooth-brushing and change of clothes later, Shirou entered the kitchen to a staredown between his guardian and his servant. Taiga was dressed in her usual outfit, a green dress thrown somewhat haphazardly over a yellow shirt with black stripes. She was growling at a placid Arthur, himself dressed in one of Kiritsugu's old black suits.

"For the last time, explain who you are or I'm gonna–" Taiga spoke at a volume just short of a yell, cutting herself off as she noticed Shirou's presence. Her expression immediately shifted from irritation to eagerness. She turned to Shirou and spoke in a rush.

"Shirou! This guy refuses to say who he is or what he's doing here, and he keeps telling me to ask you."

She smiled disarmingly before continuing. "So who is he?"

Shirou rubbed his eyes. "Taiga, that's Saber, one of my dad's old co-workers. I met him yesterday afternoon and asked him to stay over."

 _"Arthur, whatever I say, agree with it. Taiga doesn't know about magecraft,"_ he transmitted.

 _"So long as you do not claim anything absurd, I will be happy to do so,"_ responded the king.

Taiga's eyes narrowed. "Shirou...what did I say about calling me Taiga?"

Shirou sighed. _Of course_ , he thought.

"Call me sis!," Taiga said with an overly bright grin, her earlier annoyance seemingly forgotten.

 _"Is she always so excitable?,"_ Arthur mentally asked his master.

 _"Unfortunately,"_ the boy replied, using the same medium. " _She teaches English at my school, and her classes are always an adventure."_

Taiga turned back to Arthur, her smile back to a manageable level. "So, Saber, how exactly did you know Kiritsugu?"

Arthur paused.

"I met Mr. Emiya in Germany. He and I were contracted to recover an item, and we ended up partnered due to our complimentary skills."

"So what was this item?," Taiga asked, her brow furrowed.

"An antique goblet, said to possess mystical properties," Arthur expounded, skirting close to the truth. "It was being guarded by another group of mercenaries, hired by the thieves of the object to prevent those such as myself or Kiritsugu from obtaining it."

Taiga thought for a second, before continuing her minor inquisition.

"So what skills do you possess that made you such a fantastic complement to Kiritsugu?"

Arthur gave the impression of pondering the statement, though he spent the time contacting Shirou instead.

 _"I am not familiar with how your father performed his job. Would it be possible for you to answer this in my place?,"_ Arthur requested.

 _"Sure,"_ his master said.

Shirou cleared his throat, drawing Taiga's attention from his servant, then addressed her. "You know my dad often used guns, right? Preferably from long-range?"

Taiga nodded.

"Saber specializes in weapon-based close combat, specifically in the use of swords and other bladed weapons. He, along with a third partner who is also staying over, acted as a close and medium range team. They acted as decoys, keeping Kiritsugu as a trump card, as well as clearing out areas where gunfights were not feasible."

Taiga's eyes gleamed as she turned back to Arthur. "So you're good with swords, then? How about a spar?"

 _She basically ignored the entirety of my answer_ , Shirou thought morosely. _Why do I even bother?_

Arthur looked uncertain, turning his eyes to his master.

The magus gave his servant a shallow nod.

"I would be happy to spar with you," Arthur accepted, "however, I was told by Shirou that you are a teacher, so perhaps now is not the best time."

Taiga visibly deflated. "Oh, that's right. My job." She sighed, before perking up once more.

"You know, I only really took the job because I wanted to help Shirou break out of his shell. You wouldn't know it now, but he used to take everything so seriously. Hero of justice this, save the world that– superhero things, but without the fun. That's when I got Kiritsugu to talk with him about, y'know, the limitations that come with being human."

Shirou reddened. "Taiga, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about–"

Taiga smirked. " _Well_ , it might not have been, but then you called me Taiga again." Shirou's mouth snapped shut.

She chuckled to herself, stopping somewhat abruptly.

"Where was I again?," she asked herself, before snapping her fingers in front of a mildly disturbed Arthur. "Ah, the intervention, that's it!"

 _"I did not insist on extreme formality in Camelot, but I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting anyone quite so...frenetic before,"_ Arthur mused, broadcasting his thoughts to Shirou.

 _"Taiga is definitely unique, yes,"_ Shirou replied. _"I don't suppose you would consider refusing to listen to her explanation of how I learned the value of personal well-being?"_

 _"I may not have been a good parent, to my eternal shame, but I was a father nonetheless. Indulging in the recitation and sharing of embarrassing stories is one of the few advantages that come with the position,"_ Arthur said, a smile slipping onto his face.

"So, I asked Shirou what he wanted to do when he grew up, and he said–"

A barely-awake Rin clad in bright yellow pajamas chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen, followed shortly by a grumbling Archer. Taiga paused to take in the new arrivals, skimming over Archer to settle on the girl.

"Forget childhood memories for a second." Taiga's smile ratcheted up to its maximum intensity as her eyes narrowed. "Shirou, when did you plan on telling me you were dating Ms. Tohsaka?"

Rin failed to parse her teacher's words, entirely absorbed in a bleary hunt for caffeine. Shirou choked on air.

* * *

A blushing Shirou spent two minutes ushering the group out, whereupon they found themselves seated around the dining room table. Taiga's expression bordered on manic, Shirou's on depressive, and the two servants' somewhere between. Rin just looked tired, though she seemed to be bringing herself back to consciousness with the mug of instant coffee in front of her.

Taiga broke the silence. "I was about to explain how I fixed Shirou's hero complex, yeah? You still wanna hear about it?"

To Shirou's chagrin, Taiga had evidently not forgotten the prior conversation topic. To his horror, three nods greeted her second question, Rin apparently roused from her mildly catatonic state by the thought of getting to know more about her kind classmate. Arthur looked amused, and while Archer looked gleeful at the idea of Shirou's imminent embarrassment, there was a spark of genuine interest in the white-haired bowman's eyes.

Taiga discretely looked over at Shirou, who, sighing, gave a similarly discrete thumbs down. Before she could start pouting, he held up a hand.

 _I need to tell all of this to Arthur anyway, and it might help me with Rin_ , Shirou thought.

"I think it's better that I say it," the magus stated. Taiga sent an uncharacteristically gentle smile in his direction.

Before he began, Shirou mentally contacted his partner. " _I think you might want to listen to this. It's a big part of why I refused to abandon you against Berserker last night, and why I'm not going to let you fight on your own if there's ever anything I can do to help."_

 _"I believe that you may fundamentally misunderstand just how powerful a servant is, but I will at least consider your reasoning,"_ Arthur replied.

Shirou took a deep breath. "I want to be a hero to realize a dream. It's not my place to say why my dad spent his whole life trying to save people, but that's what he did. He was a selective mercenary and assassin; he only killed people who threatened other human beings. He saved countless people, going through hell to achieve his dream of a world without conflict."

He paused, taking in the attentive views of his audience.

"But for every villain he killed, two more sprouted up. For every innocent person whose life he saved, another died. People cursed his name, seeing only the people he'd killed. He realized that his goal was impossible, and swore off it. But, when he told me about it...I said I'd do what he couldn't. I'd save everyone."

Archer appeared bored, though his act was belied by the fierce interest still present in his gaze, while Rin's eyes were wide, her fascination with Shirou's personality assuaged in a much more elaborate form than she'd expected. Arthur was looking at Shirou intently, an evaluative expression clouding his face, and Taiga looked proud, her lips curled in a fond smile. Shirou looked up towards the softly glowing chandelier hanging from the ceiling, considering his words slightly before resuming his story.

"He'd saved me from the fire, and I felt the need to pay it forward: to save others, like I had been saved. I owed it to him, the man who turned me from a shell of a human being, to do my very best to succeed where he failed." Shirou took another breath, this one far shakier than his previous. "Do you know what his reaction was? He said it was a wonderful dream, and that he wished he could leave it to me, but that he couldn't. He couldn't inflict this dream on another, not because it wasn't worth striving for, but because there was more to life than dreams, and this goal would consume everything. I didn't understand then, I told him that, and then said I would take the goal anyway. He laughed, and told me that as long as I promised to prioritize who I saved, he'd agree to pass his dream on, no matter how flawed or impossible. I accepted, and I was happy."

The reactions of the group of four mirrored their earlier expressions, with the exception of Archer. The servant had abandoned the pretense of apathy entirely, his eyes boring into Shirou's with a desperation alien to the man.

"What happened then?," asked the bowman, his voice ever so slightly hoarse. "What changed?"

Taiga spoke up, a note of pride in her voice. "I did."

Shirou gave a rueful smile. "Yes, she happened. More specifically, Taiga heard the dream I inherited and beat some common sense into my head."

He chuckled, some amount of catharsis inherent in the sonic gesture. "She went up to my dad, and I don't know exactly what she said–"

"It involved a lot of yelling," Taiga admitted.

"Alright, a lot of yelling– but it got through to him, and he talked with me about saving myself before saving other people. I was confused: obviously I'd save myself, because I couldn't keep saving people if I was dead. That wasn't what he meant, he said. He said I needed to save myself from that dream, that no goal was worth dedicating all of myself to. My dad said that he was wrong to pass on _his_ dream, and that he had a better one for me."

Shirou closed his eyes, reminiscing for a moment before continuing.

"To save those I could save, to leave those I couldn't, and to live a life beyond my dream: that should be my goal. He said that I should remember that there was more to being alive than merely avoiding death, and that sometimes the best way to help others was to help myself first. Whether it was placing some lives before others, accepting that sometimes I shouldn't help out, or finding happiness in ways beyond dedicating my life to other people, he told me that, to him, I was more important than anyone else. He said that if he needed to pass on a dream, it should be this one, one that he never sought himself: that it isn't wrong to be selfish. That even if it's good to help other people, sacrificing yourself to save others isn't necessarily right. Being a hero doesn't mean losing yourself."

"So," Rin's voice was hesitant, "why do you spend all of your time helping others? Why do you still spend your time on repairing broken school equipment, or guiding your juniors, or…" She cut herself off with a frustrated huff, searching for and finding a more succinct question.

"Emiya, why do you insist on being so unreservedly helpful?"

Shirou rubbed at his neck. "I just like helping people, though I suppose it's a part of my desire to be a hero. What kind of hero doesn't aid people in need?"

"If you're talking superheroes, most of them don't bother with normal humans. You think you're liable to see Batman or Spider-Man spending an hour to fix a broken fridge in the teacher's lounge?," Taiga interjected, turning to her self-proclaimed younger brother. "You really should cut it out with the hero thing: you're a good person, and that's more than enough."

"I know that, but I owe it to my dad–" _And to myself,_ Shirou added mentally – "to try to be more. Maybe I can't help everyone, and I don't plan to, but when my father rescued me from the fire, he didn't just save me and leave: he adopted me. I owe everything to him, and if the only way I can repay that is by taking on his role for someone else, I'll do it without hesitating. Helping other people is a pale imitation of saving their lives, but it's still my way of paying tribute to the man who saved me."

"And that tribute is why you refuse to abandon others in need?," Arthur asked, joining the conversation before contacting his master. _"_ _That is why you refuse to let me fight without aid?"_

"Exactly," Shirou said, answering both the spoken and telepathized questions. He gave a relieved sigh at Arthur's nod, taking the acceptance of his reasoning for what it was.

 _That could have gone much worse,_ Shirou thought.

The group lapsed into silence, each member absorbed in their own thoughts. Arthur leaned back with a sigh, obviously content with his master's explanation. Archer looked pensive, Rin had her head resting on one palm, a faint hint of pink in her cheeks, and Taiga had a proud smile on her face.

Taiga broke first and slammed her palm on the table, jolting the others out of their musings. Her grin turned sharp. "Oh, right! I almost forgot."

She turned to face Shirou, who tried to brace himself. "I want to know when you and Rin got together!"

Shirou's breathing remained steady, though his face turned a light puce. Rin choked.

* * *

Five rolled omelets, twenty minutes, and two very uncomfortable denials later, Taiga managed to wrangle an explanation for Rin's presence out of the magi. Both claimed that the girl was interested in learning more of Saber and Archer's pasts and ended up staying over when the group lost track of time, though their hesitance prompted a further barrage of questions from the teacher.

Arthur had an aggrieved look on his face at Shirou's guardian's outburst. "They are indeed stating the truth, Ms. Fujimura," stated the king, an accompanying nod from Archer signaling his agreement.

Taiga let out a huff. "Alright, alright. I get it: nothing romantic happened," she said, as her voice dropped to a barely audible mumble. "I guess that means there's still a chance for her..."

"For whom, Taiga?," Shirou asked. _Is she trying to set me up with someone?_ , he thought.

"That's none of your business," Taiga replied, her eyes narrowing. "But if you want me to line up a date for you–"

"No, no, I'm good," her ward quickly responded, before attempting to derail the topic. "Isn't school starting in half an hour?"

 _"Arthur,"_ Shirou directed, _"would you mind getting Taiga to let me stay home for the day? We can cover it by claiming you want to tell me about my dad, but regardless, I think we need to figure out exactly what happened during that fight with Berserker."_

 _"Of course,"_ the king replied, _"we should also take the opportunity to practice your swordsmanship, as you will often be fighting by my side."_

As the mental communication terminated, Taiga took her phone from her purse and checked the time. "Oh crap, you're right! We need to get going!"

Arthur took a moment to interject. "Actually, I was hoping to keep Shirou here to continue our discussion on Kiritsugu. My partner and I–" he nodded to Archer, whose face remained blank, "may have to leave at any moment, so it would be nice to speak with Shirou while we have the opportunity."

"I'd like to stay and talk," Shirou stated, preempting Taiga's question. "My father was never entirely open about his work, as you know, so this is a pretty rare opportunity."

"I really shouldn't be okay with this," Taiga grumbled, "but there's no way I'm going to stop you from learning about your dad."

 _Maybe I misjudged her,_ Shirou thought. _She hasn't even demanded any–_

His train of thought was cut off by Taiga, who hadn't finished talking. "However, I'm going to need an incentive to allow my poor unofficial brother to miss his very important education. I think I'll be in the mood for cake tonight!"

The boy sighed and nodded his head, prompting a grin from Taiga, who turned to Rin.

"What about you?," asked the older woman.

"Me?," replied Rin, breaking out of her thoughts.

"Aren't you going to go to school?," Taiga expanded.

"Ms. Fujimura, I don't believe that any of the other teachers would appreciate me showing up out of uniform," Rin patiently responded. "I'll need to go home to get my school clothes."

Taiga began nodding, before pausing, a devious grin slithering onto her face. "And why are you wearing pajamas, anyway?"

Rin gave Taiga a withering look before answering. "Because I was asleep about half an hour ago."

"Oh, I'm sure you were. My question is why you have your pajamas here, in _Shirou's house_ ," Taiga elaborated, her grin stretching even wider.

 _Oh no,_ Shirou thought, as Rin's expression morphed to a combination of mortification and horror.

"W-well, you see, I–," Rin stuttered out, stopping when Taiga held up a hand.

"Look, just be certain you two use protection, okay?," she said, ignoring the furiously blushing teenagers next to her. "I've got to get going; bye!"

She exited the dining room, walking past an amused Arthur and a smirking Archer. Shirou heard the front door open, then slam closed behind his teacher.

Rin's face still contained a residual flush, but she'd composed herself during Taiga's march. "Will you and Saber will be training?," she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"That's the plan," Shirou replied. "While we'll probably want privacy at some point, there's room for you to train as well, if you'd like."

"I'd be happy to take you up on that offer, but first–" Rin looked down at her clothes, "I'd like to change out of my sleepwear."

She and Archer walked out of the room, leaving her fellow magus alone with his servant. _I should probably take this opportunity to ask about what I dreamt last night_ , Shirou thought.

"Hey, Saber," he said, turning to Arthur and motioning him to follow. They began the short stroll to the dojo.

"What is it?," asked the servant.

"Did you forget to mention that I would dream of your past?," Shirou questioned in turn, walking past the first floor bedrooms.

"I am not certain what you speak of," said the king, his brow creased. "Would it be possible for you to elaborate?"

 _"I believe I dreamt of the beginning of your reign,_ " the magus transmitted, switching to mental communication.

 _"What exactly did you see?,"_ queried Arthur, prompting Shirou to relay a summary of his visions.

Arthur frowned. _"Those events did indeed occur_ , _but I remain uncertain as to why you viewed my past. Perhaps it is a function of the grail, intended to strengthen the bond between master and servant?,"_ he mused. _"I suppose it does not matter much, though you should be made aware that the start of my kingship was not overly pleasant. Badon Hill was particularly bloody, and I fear that you will experience that battle when next you slumber."  
_

Shirou gave a small smirk. _"Better to see it in my dreams rather than in reality, no?"  
_

Arthur let out a chuckle in response. _"Indeed._ "

The two entered the dojo, taking in its furnishings. Along the far wall, multiple pairs of black dumbbells were stacked neatly next to a bench, a barbell held over the latter by a metal stand. To the right of the weight set stood a wooden weapons rack, a selection of training swords of various styles standing next to a few bows in serviceable condition. One length of the rack was painted a bright orange and stood currently empty, though the impression in the wood showed that a wooden sword was often present in the spot.

Shirou motioned towards the rack, implicitly offering for Arthur to take one of the swords. The monarch smiled and grabbed a longsword, tossing it from one gauntlet to the other to get a feel for its weight.

"This should do nicely," Arthur remarked, getting into a ready stance. "Will you be using any magecraft in our spar? I intend to rely on swordsmanship alone."

Shirou shook his head. "I think we should just see whether I'm any good with a sword first. We can try a real spar sometime later."

With a muttered "trace on", Shirou projected a replica of Arthur's chosen weapon.

The magus took up a position a few meters in front of Arthur. "Start on go?," he questioned, getting a nod in response.

"Ready, set, go!," Shirou yelled, dashing forward at an unmoving Arthur.

He brought his sword low before shifting his grip, turning it inwards at the last second in an attempt to corkscrew past Arthur's defense. The king countered by bring his own blade down at an obtuse angle, turning the momentum of Shirou's swing back on the magus. Shirou spun with the motion, aiming at Arthur's back after making a full rotation about the man, but his sword was again blocked by the servant, who dodged out of the way and, bringing his sword downwards, nearly knocked Shirou's out of his hands.

 _Dammit,_ Shirou thought, swiping at Arthur's legs and barely avoiding an answering downwards slash. _I'm slower and weaker than he is, and that means I'm not going to win by taking him head-on. His reaction speed–_ Shirou blocked a thrust from Arthur, diverting it over his shoulder and twisting out of the way of the immediate followup slash – _is also way too fast to get him with feints. I'll have to take some bigger risks._

Shirou feinted a leftwards thrust but thrust forward, Arthur rotating his blade to knock Shirou's out of the way before thrusting forward himself. Shirou leapt back, the tip of the sword only just avoiding his chest, and stood on the defensive. Arthur held up a hand and lowered his sword. "I commend your feinting, but you move your blade too little, Shirou. It is far too easy to make minor adjustments to my guard," the king commented. "I suggest that you try misdirecting your opponent earlier in your attack."

"A consequence of being self-taught, I suppose," Shirou said. "I often end up throwing projected weapons to distract my opponents, which usually makes the light feints work, but I suppose this is a duel with swords, not magecraft." He sighed and returned to a ready position.

"Ready to begin again?," he asked. Arthur nodded, then dashed forward, raising his sword high. Shirou guarded quickly, but the king swirled his blade ninety degrees and struck from the left, pulling back at the last instant. Shirou's blade was out of position, and the king took advantage with a sudden thrust, avoiding Shirou's desperate lunge and poking the magus' ribs.

"That was a good example of what I meant," the king said, his expression calm. "You need to chain feints, significantly varying your potential angles and methods of attack." He dropped the wooden sword, and his gauntlet flashed green, revealing the trident-like Wyneidraich. "This sword causes any limb struck by its blade to weaken. As such, I would prioritize my enemy's arms and legs when using it, likely attempting more thrusts than slashes. If I were to use this in our spar, I would have ended the feints with a thrust directed to your blade-wielding arm, rather than a more easily diverted thrust to the heart."

Shirou nodded. "Yeah, there's a reason that weapons rack has more than one type of blade on it. I practice with a wide variety of swords, so that I can use different weapons against different opponents." He walked over and picked up Arthur's discarded sword, allowing his version to dissipate.

"I'm most comfortable when wielding longswords like this, however," Shirou added, placing it back on the rack. "I think I'd like to try to figure out what happened during the battle with Berserker now."

 _"I would start by seeing if you are able to replicate a sword without the usage of your divine fire,"_ Arthur transmitted, switching to mental communication.

"Good idea," Shirou responded. "I want to test something else, too, so I have the perfect weapon to try with."

 _Alright. Let's see if Excalibur lives up to its legend,_ Shirou thought, a _ssuming that seeing it in a dream even works for this, of course._

He first concentrated on the runes along the blade's upper front, nestled between the doubled edge and its indigo interior. They came into view, one after the other, arcane runes sparking white as they trawled across the formless mass of his mind. The word spelled was written in supernatural tongue, but Shirou read it nevertheless, a fae variant of the celestial speech ordered into the word 'kingship'. The golden tip of the blade formed next, stretching from a sharp point to the fuller of reddened steel blue, the shimmering metal forming underneath the runes engraved on null. From this framework spouted an arc of gold, a sharp edge forming on its exterior as it traveled to the crossguard of the blade, splitting in two just before reaching the hilt. In the three fullers flowed the indigo metal – an unearthly material stronger than steel but lighter than air – though the indigo split just before the guard, forming an opening that would remain unfilled.

More runes seared themselves along the crossguard, the latter item forming into twin arches centered by a keystone. These runes were unlit, as yet unpowered, and Shirou could not understand their meaning. Nevertheless, the grip formed of the indigo material, three ridges spaced along its length to allow the blade to be wielded in both hands. The last ridge formed the edge of the grip, transitioning into two diamond etchings blazing themselves into being, surrounding a core resembling Sol. The pommel formed of golden metal beneath the designs, seamlessly integrating itself with the weapon.

Shirou saw it whole, as it was raised from stone, as it was placed in the same plinth by Merlin, whose very touch turned the claymore a fiery red. Shirou saw it come into the mage's possession, but he could see no more, the secrets of its forging anathema to even his mind. The blade's legacy shifted forwards, as he saw it cut a swathe across the armies of Lot and Urien. Shirou saw it taken by a lady garbed in white, and saw it sink into the waters. Unbidden, he thought of a glowing sheath, and he felt a jolt, then another. Another still, and he felt his body burn, a call from within resonating with the blade struggling to materialize without. He felt his mouth open, the words coming to his lips without conscious thought.

"Trace On!"

He felt one further lance of prana flow through him to the blade, an echo of King Arthur's form overlaying his own, and with a lurch he stood, brandishing the blade to the sky as it glowed a brilliant gold. _Excalibur,_ Shirou thought, _the blade of the rightful king._ He stood proud, but something in him felt incomplete, as though this was not an achievement but a tragic failing, an act touching but not piercing some veiled truth. Nevertheless, the blade glowed, and Shirou smiled.

From the far side of the dojo, he heard a deep-throated laugh. It came from Arthur, who raised his own arm in salute, but it was the gasp and tumble of rocks that drew his attention to the entrance of the room. Rin stood with her mouth open, her naked awe and utter disbelief apparent on her face. Her arms lay limp against her white shirt covered by a red jacket, her hands reaching to the upper edge of her black pants. She struggled to form words, "How...what...you...that..." escaping her lips in place of coherent thought. Jewels of various quality and design spread below her in a sea of color.

An even louder sound brought Shirou's attention to just behind his classmate. Archer stood open-mouthed, just as his master, but it lasted for less than a second before the bowman slammed his palm against his face, muttering variants of the word 'idiot' to himself. No one reacted for another second, but Archer broke the silence, almost tentatively. His tanned face was resigned, and his eyes were tired. He opened his mouth and stated a truth.

"God damn it. You're King Arthur."

* * *

 **AN:** I'd use Japanese superheroes like Goku or Astro Boy, but honestly, I feel like Taiga probably hoards western comics. **  
**

Bedivere's spear comes from a combination of two of his weapons from _Culhwch and Olwen_ , a fascinating work that I'll be using more of in the future.

Sakura's absence is very much intentional.

I don't know swordfighting, so if what I wrote is stupid, well, uh...I got nothing. Sorry to any swordsmen/swordswomen out there!

Oh, and here's the obligatory "will rewrite in the future to clean up grammar and punctuation, at the very least" mention.


	6. Chapter 6

Archer's proclamation brought with it a definite tension to the room, replacing the muted awe of a moment prior. Arthur's good cheer had vanished, replaced entirely by wariness, the emotion accompanied by a firm grasp on the wind-hidden Excalibur. Rin's expression remained similar, her face still struck dumb in shock, but her eyes revealed rapid calculation. Archer was already tensed for action, poised to spring forward at either Arthur or the king's master. Shirou held his version of Excalibur high, his head swiveling between the three others present.

 _Does this actually change anything?,_ Shirou wondered, considering and discarding offensive plans. _I don't think Arthur and I are liable to win any immediate conflict, limited to non-lethal means as we are, and I know very little of Rin or Archer's full capabilities. I think we just have to accept the loss of information and move on._

Shirou sighed and lowered his sword arm. Rin and Archer tensed further as it reached a ready position, but the girl relaxed when Shirou pointed Excalibur towards the ground, tip first.

 _"Arthur, do you think it's worth trying to claim you're a different member of the round table?,"_ Shirou asked. _"Gawain, perhaps?"_

 _"I believe that it would be in our best interest to tell the truth here,"_ Arthur responded. _"I am not certain how Archer divined my identity, and I recommend that you press him for an answer. Lying is thus inadvisable."_

 _"Understood,_ " Shirou replied, turning to face Rin and Archer.

His face grew serious. "Saber is King Arthur, yes. He and I would very much like to know how you became aware of this information, Archer."

Archer looked impassive as he spoke. "No."

"No?"

"No, I will not tell you how I know that Saber is Arthur," Archer clarified. "While we are allies – to my annoyance – that is all we are."

Rin glared at her servant.

"I'm interested in this as well, Archer," she said, her anger apparent in her voice.

Archer glared at his master in return, and they locked eyes, seemingly initiating a mental argument. Shirou took the time to commune with his own servant.

 _"So, where do we go from here?,"_ Shirou asked. _"Unless Rin can get Archer to talk, we're kinda stuck."_

Arthur grimaced, then replied. _"Without a complete picture of Archer's knowledge, we should limit what powers we demonstrate in his presence. You have revealed your talents with projection, and I the use of various blades. We must hope that he does not recognize the divine fire that infused Treildfigen when you projected it last, nor that I have blades of even stronger make. I suspect that he was active in the fourth war and viewed some or all of my capabilities, but that still leaves your abilities a mystery to him."  
_

 _"I guess the question is this: if we're in a worst-case scenario, how do we shift things so that we still come out on top?,"_ responded Shirou. _  
_

 _"We are assuming that, with foreknowledge of my abilities, Archer is able to counter them?,"_ Arthur questioned. _"In such an event, I believe we would need some idea of his powers. If he possesses strength enough to defeat my knights, and endurance enough to survive Excalibur, I would require a means of negating his strengths just as he did mine. Intelligence is the key – as it always is, I suppose."_

 _"Then we have to press Rin for it, because I don't think Archer is liable to reveal any more than he absolutely has to,"_ Shirou concluded, focusing once more on the situation playing out in front of him.

 _Judging by the pleased look on Rin's face and the scowl on Archer's, she's likely gotten the better of their debate,_ he thought. _I might as well see if I can get an answer out of Rin, then._

"So, Rin, I take it that Archer told you what you want to know?," Shirou questioned, turning to face the two.

"He did, yes. In fact, he has something to say to you, Shirou," Rin said, shooting a glare at her servant.

Archer looked pained as he opened his mouth to speak. "My master has decided that withholding the information on how I know Saber's identity would be counterproductive to our alliance."

"And what is that information, Archer?," Rin asked, prodding her sullen servant with a smirk on her face.

The bowman sighed. "I was servant Saber in the fourth grail war, ten years ago. My master in that war got caught in the middle of a battle between Lancer and Rider. In the process of defending my master, I learned that Lancer was Arthur."

Archer stopped for a moment, shooting Rin a dirty look. The female magus' grin remained beatific.

"My memories are somewhat fragmented, likely because my current master made a mistake in my summoning–" Rin flushed red at the accusation, her smile vanishing, but didn't deny it, "though I do recall Lancer wielding Excalibur against Rider, who I later learned to be Odysseus, and a counter-guardian to boot."

 _How did he know it was Excalibur?_ _,_ Shirou thought _,_ then asked the question out loud.

"Lancer yelled its name when he used it to force Rider's retreat," Archer replied, a small smirk wriggling its way onto his visage.

The servant turned to his counterpart, staring hard at an unflinching Arthur. "The question _I_ have to ask, though, is why the Lancer of the previous war claims not to know of this battle."

Arthur's stare in return was guarded, and both men tensed for possible battle as the king spoke. "My memories of the prior war are lost, beyond that of my arrival. I suspect it is because I, too, was summoned to this war in unorthodox fashion."

Rin chose that moment to interject, letting out an annoyed grunt then shifting her accusing gaze between the two non-magi.

"Servants aren't supposed to retain their memories at all!," she exclaimed.

"Wait, what?," Shirou asked. _What the hell is Rin talking about?_

Rin turned to her classmate and explained. "Servants aren't really heroic spirits. They're actually copies of the spirits residing in the throne of heroes, a plane of existence located next to the root."

She paused, looking hopeful.

"You do know what the root is, Emiya? Right?"

Shirou scratched the back of his neck as he responded. "Yeah, it's basically heaven. My dad described it as the seat of divine strength, such that anyone who got there would gain godlike power. It was more complicated than that, and I forget a lot of the associated terminology, but that's the gist, I think."

"Close enough," said Rin, "but the root aside, my point is that these copies disperse into prana at war's end, filling the grail. They don't merge with their presences in the throne of heroes, and thus the knowledge possessed by these copies shouldn't be retained by any new incarnations."

She concluded her explanation and spun back to the servants, resuming her stare. "Obviously, this means that neither of you should have any memories of the previous war, fragmented or otherwise."

Arthur held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Ms. Tohsaka, I assure you that I do not have the answers you seek. My last memory prior to my summoning by Kiritsugu is of my sister Morgan, trying and failing to heal my wounds."

The female magus sighed, then swiveled her head back to Shirou.

"I believe he's telling the truth," the boy said, shrugging. "I'm not entirely sure how I summoned him in the first place, really, so there's a more than slight chance that something went wrong."

Rin nodded, turning to face her own servant, her face set in a stony mask.

"As for you, Archer: we need to talk."

Archer looked apologetic as he preempted Rin's questions. "When I said I had amnesia, I didn't mean complete amnesia: what few memories I do have are fragmented."

 _He's lying,_ Shirou thought, peering at the servant's face and posture. _But not completely.  
_

Rin's expression crumbled into irritation.

"Of course you don't know why things are going wrong, either," she said, letting out a small groan. She sat down with a huff, massaging her temples with her hands. "I suppose I'll have to figure this out on my own, as usual. It's not like the fake priest is going to help, arbiter or not."

"My sympathies," Archer said, smirking. Shirou took advantage of the short lapse in conversation to confer with his servant.

 _"Arthur, are you absolutely certain you don't remember anything past your summoning?"  
_

 _"Unfortunately, I truly know nothing more. That said, as I was indeed summoned as Lancer in the prior war, Archer is most likely telling the truth,"_ Arthur communed. _  
_

 _"I'm pretty sure he was lying, actually,"_ Shirou transmitted, " _but not about the battle he witnessed. I think he was lying about losing his memories."_

 _"Is that so?,"_ Arthur mused. " _I was focused more on Ms. Tohsaka at the time. While Archer may have ulterior motives, your classmate seems far more reliable an ally."_

The king motioned towards the girl, who was currently scrounging around for the gem arsenal she'd dropped earlier.

 _"From her comments towards Archer, it appears that she was the one who convinced him to reveal his knowledge to us. That speaks to a commitment to our alliance that I, quite frankly, did not expect. At no point during the conversation did it appear that she was planning to deceive or misguide us."_

 _"She's very good at playing a persona, which I suppose you'll experience firsthand if and/or when I attend school tomorrow, but being able to trust her is great news, even if we can't trust her servant,"_ Shirou concluded. " _I think she's collected most of her jewels, and I kinda have something to ask her, so we'll have to talk more about this later."_ _  
_

"Hey, Rin, how do you know so much about servants?," Shirou asked, breaking the silence.

Rin looked up, one hand gripping a yellow sapphire on the floor in front of her. "I told you before: my guardian is Kotomine, the priest I took you to meet before your reunion with your younger sister. He's overseeing the war, to make sure things don't get too out of hand."

Shirou gestured outward with a hand, the copy of Excalibur still in his hand causing Rin to flinch. "Oh, sorry," he said, allowing it to dissipate before responding.

"Kotomine really doesn't strike me as the type to share information without making you jump through hoops. Is he really where you learned all of this from?," asked Shirou, a dubious expression on his face.

Rin stood, brushing off her pants with her empty hand as she replied. "I'm expecting an explanation for what you just did with Excalibur. As for my knowledge, my family did create the grail system, and my father was a master in the prior war, so I had a lot of reading material on the subject."

 _Dad told me they were a prestigious family of magi, but that's certainly not the answer I was expecting,_ he considered. _Allying with Rin is turning out to be a really great decision._

"Your family created the grail system? How? Why?," Shirou shot questions at his fellow magus, ignoring her first statement for the time being.

"Not so certain your servant can tell you everything now, are you?," Rin responded rhetorically, smirking, evidently mindful of Shirou's claim made a day prior. "To answer your questions: not alone, with help, and to reach the root."

"Would you be willing to elaborate?," Shirou asked, acutely aware of his ignorance on the subject.

Rin's smirk remained in place as she sat, placing her collected gems in her lap. She leaned her head on her palm, bracing her elbow against her knees. "I'd be glad to. 190 years ago, three families hit on a means of potentially reaching the root – something, I can only hope you are aware, is the end goal of all magi."

Shirou neglected to mention his alternate views on the subject, instead urging Rin to continue.

"By refining a gargantuan amount of prana through a specially designed vessel, these families hoped to rewrite reality, using the magical energy as fuel for a wish. The Tohsaka provided the land, the Einzbern prepared the vessel, and the Makiri crafted command seals to bind the servants that would serve as fuel for the grail."

Rin paused, taking a breath.

"My family aimed to reach the root. However, the other two families had other plans for their wishes. I do not quite know what they intended, but I do know that all three factions miscalculated: the grail only had enough power to fulfill one wish. If the other two families were proper magi, this wouldn't be a problem, as they'd all reach the root with one wish to open a direct path, following the servants in reverse."

 _Oh, the Einzbern family created the grail? I suppose that's why Illya's here,_ Shirou thought. _Likely why my father and Irisviel were in the last war as well._

Rin grimaced. "Obviously, the other families betrayed mine, and so the grail system became the grail war. The prana was be gathered by summoning and sacrificing seven heroic spirits, or, rather, copies thereof, but when the Makiri and Einzbern families turned their backs on mine, these spirits were instead used to fight each other. Over time, the attrition from the battles whittled away at the families. I don't know the current status of the Einzbern, but my family has been reduced to a single heiress: me."

"What about the Makiri family?"

Rin's face tightened further. "They moved to Japan and changed their family name. As for their situation...for personal reasons, I'd really rather not talk about it."

 _I suppose that's fair,_ Shirou reasoned. _Allies or not, we're not exactly close friends.  
_

"The Makiris aside, I want you to explain exactly what you did with that sword," Rin said, carefully balancing the jewels in her arms as she stood. "I convinced Archer to share his memory with you, so it's only fair."

"How did you convince him, anyway?," Shirou asked, delaying.

"No dodging the question," Rin replied, frowning. "What did you do with Excalibur?"

 _"How much do I tell her of my skills?,"_ Shirou asked his servant, giving the impression of pausing for thought. _"I'm thinking everything but the divine flames."_

 _"A fine plan,"_ responded Arthur. _"But you must_ _t_ _ake care that you do not reveal my own abilities in the process. If she lacks such knowledge, I see no reason to provide it to her."_

 _"Agreed,"_ the boy concluded, focusing on his female counterpart. "Rin, that wasn't Excalibur."

"Do you take me for an idiot, Emiya?," said Rin, the beginnings of a glare manifesting on her face. "Considering that it's how Archer identified your servant, there's really nothing else it could be."

Shirou groaned. "That's not what I meant, Rin. I mean that the sword I was holding was a copy of Excalibur."

"How in the name of heaven did you manage to copy Excalibur?," Rin asked in response, her glare fully formed. "What, are you claiming to be some kind of magical genius? As a genius myself, I should be more than able to recognize another, and you certainly aren't one."

 _Well you're certainly not humble,_ Shirou thought, before answering. "No, I'm actually rather terrible at most magecraft. That was a projection, one of the few magical skills that I'm actually able to perform."

"Projection?!," Rin screeched. "Projection lets you form sticks and stones! It doesn't allow you to recreate legendary swords!"

"I'm rather sure it's projection," Shirou responded hotly. "The only magecraft I've ever had any success with are projection, reinforcement, and a bit of alteration, so it's not as though there are any real alternatives."

Rin took a deep breath before replying. "We can talk about your failings as a magus later. Right now, I want to figure out what you just did with King Arthur's weapon. As you seem to be ignorant regarding the matter, that means we're going to have to do research, which in turn means I need to grab some books from my house."

"Did you not pack them in the three boxes you brought over?," Shirou asked, repressing a teasing smirk.

"I didn't expect to have to research one of the most basic of all magecraft, no," Rin drily replied, "and now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my room and prepare for potential fights on the way."

"Don't you already have your gems?," Shirou questioned.

"If we get into a battle, how do you propose I fight while carrying them? Should I juggle?," Rin replied, already walking out of the dojo. "Archer, come with me. I want your help searching through my luggage."

Archer grumbled, but complied, following his master out of the room.

Shirou picked a practice sword from the rack, taking a few swings with it. He sighed, turning to his stoic servant and pointing his blade in the servant's direction.

"Would you like to practice your swordsmanship while Ms. Tohsaka rummages through her belongings?," Arthur asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Shirou said, a small smile on his face. "She might be a while."

* * *

A surprisingly short 25 minutes later, Rin returned, her pants pockets filled. She wore a self-satisfied smirk, though Shirou could not discern its source, and had some oddly shaped bulges on the sides of her jacket. Archer was nowhere to be seen– _likely astralized,_ Shirou thought.

Arthur was clad once more in his platemail, the scratches and tears from Berserker's strikes healed over by prana flow, while Shirou was garbed in a short sleeved blue shirt and jeans, discarding his normal long-sleeved shirt for greater mobility.

 _"I think Rin has the right idea: please astralize, Arthur,"_ Shirou transmitted. _"If you emit less prana, there's less of a chance of us being found by any overeager servants."_

Arthur's response came in the form of near-instant intangibility and invisibility. Shirou immediately felt a lessened drain on his circuits, quickly analyzing them to confirm their optimal condition.

The magus nodded towards his female counterpart.

"We're ready," he said, striding out of the room. Rin followed at a similar pace, and they exited the house, Shirou slowing to let Rin direct. The girl spoke, keeping her head forward and her pace brisk.

"In order to figure out how you copied Excalibur, I need to know what happened when you summoned it."

Shirou sped up, making sure to stay close to his female counterpart.

"I essentially pictured the blade, piece by piece, understanding each of its components in turn. Doing so gave me knowledge of its history as well, but it ended with–"

"Never mind that," Rin cut him off. "I want to know what thoughts were running through your head, where you channeled prana, which circuits fired...I neither need nor want an explanation of your results, not until I can figure out their source."

"Tohsaka, I told you, it's projection."

"And why are you so sure of that, Emiya?," she rejoindered.

"Because I can do this with non-legendary swords too," he responded. "Watch."

Rin stopped and turned to her side, whereupon Shirou muttered his trigger phrase. In his hands formed the longsword he'd used in his demonstration to Arthur.

"I found this thing in a museum while on a trip to England. I have an affinity for bladed weapons in general, and when you combine that with my skill in analysis, I can summon replicas of swords I've seen even once. I don't really see any reason why Excalibur should be different," he explained.

 _Well, that last part is an absolute lie, but better to mislead her than to reveal my trump card,_ Shirou mentally added. _I'm not sure how to say that these legendary swords give me more than just their history and physical form, at least without tipping my hand.  
_

"Fine," Rin ground out, "but I refuse to believe that there's nothing more to it than projection and an 'affinity for blades'."

"More specifically, both my element and origin are sword," added Shirou, three parts helpful to one part needling.

"That's absurd, but sure, let's just add it to the damn pile!" Rin threw up her hands, apparently giving up on the discussion. "Two servants remember the prior war, you _accidentally_ summoned King Arthur, the war's arbiter might have his own servant, Berserker can hold a conversation, and the son of the Magus Killer seems to be allying with more masters than he's killing! Why not add a previously unknown magical skill to the list?!"

"If it helps, we can just call it something else," Shirou suggested, gingerly trying to defuse his classmate. "How about 'tracing'?"

"I don't care. I'm done with this conversation."

True to her word, Rin remained silent, only speaking up a few minutes later as they reached downtown. They waited patiently at an intersection, the red light adjacent halting their progress.

"Hey, Shirou?"

He turned his head in her direction, keeping an eye on the street. The light turned green, and they began to cross, a throng of people making their way in the opposite direction.

"What is it?"

Rin looked somewhat hesitant, an uncertain expression crossing her face. She opened her mouth, closed it for a second, and opened it again.

"Do you actually intend to win the grail war?," the female magus asked.

"I haven't really thought about it, honestly. I'm more focused on trying not to let anyone die," he said, eyes crinkled in thought. "I suppose I'd like to wish for my father's dream, but–"

"Gah!" Shirou was cut off, forcibly exhaling as the two magi walked into a man crossing the other way. The other man turned back, walking towards them with a scowl on his face.

"Watch where you're going!," the man exclaimed, making his way forward with arms raised. "Do you have no consideration for others?!"

Shirou was about to respond when he heard a telepathic yell.

 _"Move!"_

Shirou ducked as the man's hands plunged downwards, twin daggers appearing where there were none a second prior. Arthur materialized behind his master, already wielding the sword of Perceval. Rin stumbled back, her servant materializing in front of her with a clang as Archer's twin swords crossed, blocking one of the man's curved blades.

The male magus leapt back, trading places with his servant. A muttered "trace on" brought Shirou's longsword to his hands as the mass of people scattered. He looked forward and saw the man driven back by Archer, moving with the motion and melding into the panicking crowd.

"Assassin," bit out Rin, who reached into a pocket and pulled out a sparking topaz. "Damn it!"

From the other side of the crowd, Assassin leapt forward, his twin sicae aimed at Archer's neck. The bowman blocked the blow by pivoting suddenly, bringing Kanshou and Bakuya forward to divert the strike, slicing them forward at the end of the diverting motion. Assassin dodged and leapt back into the dwindling crowd again, avoiding a followup thrust by Archer.

Shirou and Arthur moved so that they faced back to back, Shirou using his servant's eyes to grant them perfect rotational vision. Assassin leapt for Shirou this time, but the king spun as his master ducked, knocking one of the daggers from Assassin's hands. It vanished, then reappeared in the hands of the killer, whose attire had morphed into a shadowy cowl. Rin threw her gem at the man while reaching for another, the topaz exploding in a corona of electricity as Assassin went low, penning the crowd in instead of driving Assassin back. She growled, coming up with an opal as Assassin retreated once more.

From further forward, the four allies heard a thump as another man landed with a crash, digging a small crater into the material of the sidewalk. His hair was a deep blue, a color shared with the cloth of his garb, and his bangs fell in twin strands to the top of his red eyes. Above the blue garments the man wore an armor made of an odd mix of leather and steel, the leather dyed the same blue as his hair. In his hands he held an intricately designed red spear, the name of which thrust its way into Shirou's mind. _Gae Bolg,_ he thought, _which means this is–_

"I saw a battle happening, and, well, I couldn't resist getting involved," the man said in a jovial tone, shoving a middle-aged businesswoman to the curb as he walked forward. "My master ordered me to, I quote, 'do whatever the hell I want', and I've been itching for another fight."

The blue-haired man dashed forward, coming to a stop in front of a wary Arthur.

"You do look strong enough for a good match," he said to the king, ignoring Shirou for the moment. In the background, Assassin leapt forward once more, this time driving Archer out of sight. A wave of water indicated that Rin had thrown her infused opal, but Shirou couldn't be certain, the mass of people forcing their way between the magus and his allies. He refocused on the man in blue, who wore a lazy grin.

"If I've figured out how my master ticks, she'd probably ask me to take you out soon, what with you being a servant and all," said the leather-clad servant. "It's really just speeding thing up a bit. Since that other servant also pulled out swords, I'm not quite sure, but I'm gonna guess you're Saber."

"I believe I am already aware of who you are," Arthur said, his eyes narrowed. "Lancer, correct?"

"Got it in one," replied the servant of the spear, tossing Gae Bolg from one hand to the other. "Let's first deal with the bystanders before we throw down, yeah?"

"If you intend to murder these innocents, I refuse to let you do so," stated Arthur, steel in his tone.

"Nah, nothing so fatal," Lancer responded, before raising his voice. "Hey! We're going to be fighting, so everyone get out of here!"

The servant punctuated his yell with his weapon, pointing it at any stragglers. He turned back to Shirou and Arthur as the crowd dispersed fully; Rin, Archer, and Assassin were nowhere to be found, but a pillar of fire seen in the distance indicated that the Tohsaka heiress was still in fighting shape. Lancer leapt back, just out of Arthur's range, and raised his spear.

The man in blue spoke, his grin still plastered on his face. "Right. I'd bow, but I've never believed in that nonsense. Let's go!"

* * *

Within moments of his declaration, Lancer struck, lightly thrusting Gae Bolg at Arthur's chest. Arthur diverted the thrust contemptuously, swatting it aside. He returned a thrust with Pysguread, nicking Lancer's armor before the servant could draw back his spear. The two stared at one another, Lancer's grin growing wild, Arthur's face stoic as ever.

 _"Arthur, we're up against Cu Chulainn,"_ Shirou spoke mentally, circling the enemy servant. _"Be careful of getting hit by his spear, it can do something involving causality manipulation."_

 _"Is that latter statement made from concern or caution?,"_ Arthur asked, his eyes tracking Lancer's movements before making a sudden thrust opposite Shirou's position. _  
_

Shirou rushed forward, slashing at Lancer's back. The man twirled, knocking Shirou's longsword from his hands as the butt of Gae Bolg deflected Arthur's sword. The magus thought for a second on Gae Bolg as he jumped back, ignoring the rush of information to pinpoint the exact nature of its power. _  
_

He grimaced as a thin, diagonal line of red tore its way across his front, Lancer's swipe coming in concert with another deflection of Arthur's blade.

 _"Caution. If that thing gets a hit on you and Lancer activates it, it'll break reality to deliver a strike to your heart. The good news is that it can only happen on a thrust, and only when invoked by name. The bad is that it costs almost no prana."_

Arthur jumped back, avoiding a thrust and putting himself out of Lancers range. The monarch swapped to another weapon– _Setarfoad, the silencing_ _blade of Sir Erec_ , whispered Shirou's mind _–_ his gauntlet glowing a pale blue. The sword was shaped in a rough approximation of a claymore, its blade colored a gradient, shifting from red on one edge to light blue on the other. On the red edge, the blade was straight and sharp, while the blue edge was serrated, glowing a mild cyan. Engraved on the blade was a heart enclosing a near-featureless face, a line in place of a mouth the only ornamentation on the caricature. The hilt was an unadorned light grey, forged of common iron, though a glowing dash circling the very bottom of the sphered pommel served to break the mundanity.

 _"In that case,"_ responded Arthur, eyes narrowed, _"I shall remove the hound's ability to speak the name of his lance. Provide a distraction!"_

Shirou counted to three then dashed forward, tracing and reinforcing his sword with a roar as he swung downwards. Lancer shifted his grip to meet Shirou's slash, spinning Gae Bolg such that he could parry at any angle should Shirou divert his strike. The sword fractured as it met the middle of Gae Bolg, breaking against the spear of greater make, sending shards of metal in all directions. Lancer raised an arm to shield his eyes and Arthur struck, aiming to slash open the spearman's back with the blue edge of his weapon. An inhumanly quick twirl from Lancer forced the swipe wide, but the return slash caught the hound of Culann square, opening a tear in the servant's armor and the musculature below.

If anything, Lancer's smile grew even more feral as he ignored the blood dripping down his front, jumping out of melee range. Arthur circled behind him.

"That's what I'm talking about!," Lancer yelled, turning to Shirou and speaking. "Kid, I don't know why you're getting involved in this. I'm not really a fan of harming minors, but if you keep this up, you're gonna die."

Shirou narrowed his eyes and replied, also ignoring the blood streaked across his chest. "I'm not going to abandon my partner. Maybe it's not the smartest move, but I'm not the smartest person."

Lancer let out a laugh. "You're either ridiculously courageous or incredibly stupid. If you survive this skirmish, know that you've managed my respect, and that's damn hard to get."

"I'll keep it in mind," Shirou said, a smile threatening to emerge. _"Arthur, now!"_

 _"Right!,_ " Arthur transmitted, sweeping his sword in an arc, red side first. Lancer dodged the initial strike with a spin and nearly dodged the follow-up, an artful twirl of Gae Bolg knocking Arthur's attack off course. A single sawtooth from the other edge of Erec's blade nicked the man, however, and the servant of the spear lit up in blue, distracting Shirou.

Lancer took the moment to thrust Gae Bolg towards the magus, mouthing its name, but paused in disbelief as no sound escaped his mouth. Arthur scored a second hit on the man for his hesitation, a second gash across the chest scratched parallel to the first. For the first time in the short battle, Lancer looked cautious, jumping far into the distance with Gae Bolg held before him.

Arthur didn't let up, rushing towards Lancer in the blink of an eye and engaging in a dance of steel. Shirou could barely follow the action, the red trails of Gae Bolg mixing with the crimson arcs of Setarfoad as the phantasms met. He shot prana to his eyes, reinforcing them to try to make out any detail in the clash between spirits. First Arthur struck to the left, his blade scraping against the side of Lancer's spear, which twisted outwards, forcing the king to lunge to the side to avoid the strike. Arthur carried the motion to his next swing, trailing Setarfoad along with him to build up greater momentum for the strike, but Lancer flipped backwards, coming around with a forward thrust that Arthur parried to the side. Suddenly Lancer was on the back foot, Arthur's swipes narrowing, but the hound was just as suddenly moving forward, alternately striking at Arthur's face, chest, and legs. Arthur scored a hit with the blue edge once more, but it passed through Lancer entirely, the spearman's retreat foiling any attempt at a followup from the red side of Setarfoad. The two broke apart once more, staring warily at one another.

 _They're stalemated like this,_ Shirou realized. _Arthur's skill is greater, but Lancer has a reach advantage. Setarfoad's effect is only active when in use, so Arthur is limited to effectively using half of a sword. I have to intervene._ As he thought, the two men met again, a swipe catching Lancer's right shoulder in exchange for a tear through the left pauldron of Arthur's armor. The next few attacks were parried in series, Arthur's slashes finding equally little purchase as Lancer's thrusts.

Shirou ran to the fight, reinforcing his capabilities with prana. His mind strained as he desperately sought the lance he'd seen in his dreams, Gwydnawr, the weapon of Sir Bedivere. He caught but a glimpse of it, but it came to his hand nevertheless, his left arm falling limp as his right grasped the bone-white spear, its tip stylized as a serpent's fang. All along its body were inscribed runes of multiplication, each carved unnaturally well. The letters glowed a deep green, the enchantments on the weapon forcing themselves into being and augmenting its wielder's power. Shirou ran further as he blurred, reaching the battle as Arthur knocked Gae Bolg off course. The magus leapt into the air and struck downward, aiming to bury Bedivere's spear in Lancer's skull, but the servant was faster, dodging so that Shirou would only scratch the spearman's shoulder.

Gwydnawr sang as it plunged forth, Shirou altering its course with acumen he didn't possess, sinking deep through the flesh of Lancer's right arm. At impact, eight copies of the spear formed in a burst of celadon light, plunging in concert with Bedivere's lance. Nine gashes were gored into the servants arm as Shirou landed hard, coming away from Lancer's uncoordinated followup with a deep, vertical stripe of red on his chest next to his earlier wound. Shirou caught a glimpse of the servant's features as he rolled away, a combination of anger and satisfaction clouding Lancer's disposition, but the view vanished in an instant, Lancer shifting Gae Bolg to a one-armed grip as he continued to bat Arthur's swipes away. Lancer's right appendage dripped crimson to the ground, coating the street between the combatants as it mixed with the life-giving fluid falling from Shirou's own wound, but the man turned back to a two handed grip, ignoring the scored lines on his arm.

In the next moment, Lancer's visibly concentrated, and Shirou felt his chest begin to heat, an uncomfortable warmth soon turning to a painful blaze. Shirou's shirt began to smolder before it was set alight, and the crackle of flames filled the magus' ears as he clenched his teeth from the pain. Soon his chest began to burn, his two wounds cauterized in an instant as the flames grew ever hotter. He opened his mouth involuntarily and began to scream, a pulse from within him ignored even as the pain seemed to lessen. Thick black smoke billowed from his body as the fire spread to his waist. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, and he began to close his eyes, seeking refuge in unconsciousness, when Arthur gave a roar and set his hand alight.

Shirou's watering eyes could not make out much detail, but he saw Arthur's gauntlet shining the color of Sol at midday, and a part of the boy's mind recognized _Galatine, the sword of the sun_. Gawain's steel blade lit in red as Lancer spoke the name of his spear with a forward thrust, the weapons meeting in a clash of sparks above the burning body of Arthur's master. Excalibur's sister sword began to burn through Gae Bolg, even as the spear struggled to turn causality to its side, and an explosion of light followed. Shirou was framed in gold as Galatine began to steal the fire from the rune, the core of Gawain's sword turning orange with acquired heat. Gawain's blade lit on fire itself as the same gold outline flowed to the sword from the magus' body, a corona of light encompassing the blade of Camelot's heir. Lancer jumped backwards, abandoning his strike as Arthur swung his sword and intoned its name.

 **"Galatine!"**

Above the sword a ball of fire formed, surrounded and orbited by thirteen circles, the space between the circle in the center inscribed in runes of the celestial alphabet. Arthur threw the sword upward as an image of a stylized sun constrained in rings appeared beneath him, piercing the miniature star as Galatine's core glowed blue, the last circle inscribing itself in flame around the king's feet. The sword fell into Arthur's waiting grasp and he brought it back, the runic circles enclosing the servant glowing yellow as spines of light from their outer core pierced the sword.

As Arthur began to swing, seven rings formed in his path, shattering in turn as the blade shifted from blue to white, its very presence melting the road along the line of Arthur's slash. The sword, now little more than a column of flame, grew longer as Shirou watched, entranced. Even numbed by Lancer's fire, he felt the calefactive sword's energy, the power of his servant raising it to heights unknown. A thunderous boom rent the air as Arthur ripped the aether in half, swinging the essence of flame itself at an equally shocked Lancer. From the edge of the extended blade came a wave of fire followed by another and another in turn, thirteen arcs smashing into the servant of the spear before a final pulse followed, its burning light forcing Shirou to close his eyes to slits. Thin pillars of fire filled his narrowed vision before his eyes finally shut, his last sight a wide-eyed Lancer engulfed in a fireball of titanic proportions.

Consciousness fled soon after, and he dreamed.

* * *

 _He saw his servant, the man carrying Excalibur on his waist, the blade's immaculate hilt glowing golden in the morning light filtering through the trees above. The king was walking towards a glade containing a pond of clear water, its entrance clear between curtains of vibrant red vines. The king paused for a moment, steeling himself, and entered. As he did, Shirou saw the world around him expand, the pond growing to a glowing lake as the trees fled. Above the water floated a woman dressed in white, an opaque veil covering her face and pristine robes hiding everything but the curvature of her body from view.  
_

 _Arthur knelt and retrieved Excalibur, but something in him cried at the sight, for Excalibur was not whole. The golden blade seemed unbroken, but Shirou saw that the unearthly metal in its core had faded to grey, and the runes at its tip did not glow. Arthur motioned the lady forward, and she took the sword from his hands. The lake behind her began to churn as she turned towards it, whirling in chaotic patterns as she began to chant, Excalibur dipped to the hilt in the water. She continued her chant as Arthur knelt still, and the waters began to pulse gold, white, and indigo, calming slightly as the colors stratified in the waves. As she completed her chant, Shirou saw the indigo portion of the water envelop the blade of Excalibur, causing the color to return to its core and the runes along its side to light again. The gold came next and formed a cocoon about the sword, shielding it from view as the white overlapped the gold, the two twining into an outer coating for the blade._

 _Excalibur glowed bright then brighter, brighter still and forcing Shirou to avert his eyes. From the sky above a pillar of light formed around the woman and the sword, but Shirou made out runes lighting the hilt of the sword, their meaning as yet unclear. Ten diamonds of light overlaid the sword before sinking into its surface, the space between them filling with intricate etchings of the lake in which Excalibur drowned. Atop the diamond nearest the hilt formed knotted strands of the unearthly indigo and regal gold, flattening into a pattern of wings. Closer yet to the hilt formed a golden cross topped by an arrowhead, a square poking from beneath the center of the symbol. Around it formed more indigo, and then steel, the metal rippling as it coated the uncovered portion of the blade._

 _From within him came an insistent pulsing as the light around the blade died down. He recognized it as Excalibur, but whole, united, the sword as it should rightfully be. The pulsing grew greater as the lady brought the sheathed sword to the kneeling king, who stood, staring in wonder at the blade in his hands. She spoke, but the pulsing grew too great to ignore, and an image of a hill and sea overlaid the glade. Stationed near the top of the hill was Excalibur, and the pulsing directed his vision to it, Shirou seeing the runes on its hilt glowing the same as those of the revitalized sword. The plain blade stabbed into the top of the hill let out a hum, a letter etching itself in pale flame along its side as he watched. The symbol expanded to fill his vision as the world dimmed in turn, and he saw fire._

* * *

Shirou woke groggily, slowly blinking his eyes as the world around him came into focus. He felt around for his alarm clock but instead found warped asphalt, the events of the recent battle forcing their way into his skull as he considered the power of his primary ally.

 _If that's what servants can do, running into the middle of a battle between them is and was a terrible idea,_ Shirou thought. He pushed off the ground into a seating position, the action causing him a surprisingly minimal amount of pain.

 _How long have I been out?,_ he wondered, viewing his surroundings with a combination of concern and awe. The street was broken and warped, clods of half-melted asphalt mixing with bricks from the few stores located near Lancer's last known position. To his relief, he saw no corpses despite the devastation, and outside of the immediate location of Arthur's strike, the entirety of the buildings nearby were intact, if scorched. The magus made his way to his feet with a wince, falling to one knee as soon as he stood. A lance of pain shot through his chest.

 _"Arthur, where are you?,"_ transmitted Shirou, noticing for the first time that he was alone. _"Are you okay?"_

"I am standing beside you, _"_ came the reply, Arthur materializing from his ethereal form. His armor was mostly intact, if torn, and he seemed no worse for wear. "And I believe that it is I who should be questioning you on your well-being. _"_

The king looked at the kneeling form of his master with a concerned expression. Shirou took the moment to probe his circuits, finding to his shock that they were nowhere near as drained as he'd expected. Physically, too, he was better than anticipated, the only external remnant of his battle with Lancer a deep scar shaped as the rune Lancer used to call fire.

The boy looked up at his servant and nodded. "Aside from residual pain in my chest, everything seems to be in order. Would you mind helping me stand?"

"I'd be glad to aid you," Arthur said, pulling Shirou to his feet. The magus wobbled slightly, but took a few steps forward, gingerly testing himself. Shirou turned to his servant and spoke.

"So, did you get Lancer?," he asked, his personal state deemed acceptable. "The last thing I saw was him engulfed in a giant fireball."

Arthur grimaced. "No. When I investigated the site of the attack, I found nothing. I suspect he was recalled through use of a command seal."

"I suppose that's likely to happen for any servant whose master is paying attention," Shirou said with a sigh. "Any sight of Rin or Archer?"

The king shook his head. "I have not seen either of them, and I suspect that if they remain among the living, we will be able to rendezvous with them back at your house."

"I agree," said Shirou, "we'll just have to hope that they're okay. Let's get back to my place."

Arthur nodded, and the two began retracing their steps. Roughly 150 meters later, the servant stopped.

"What is it?," Shirou asked.

Arthur took a moment to reply, before he pointed towards a side street. "I have detected another servant in that direction, but more importantly, I am detecting a rapid rise in the given servant's prana."

 _Which means it's likely being drained from someone or something,_ Shirou pondered, stating as much to his servant.

"I think we should investigate," the magus said. "Ideally we won't get into another fight, but in case we do, I think you should start this battle with your primary sword."

 _"Why do you believe I should begin with Excalibur proper?,"_ Arthur asked, switching to mental conversation.

"If the servant is indeed draining prana, we might end be in a race against time. While I'm confident that your other weapons can do the deed, the chance that the servant in question will grow too quickly in power isn't worth taking," Shirou explained, vocalizing the conversation.

Arthur didn't reply, but Shirou saw his right hand curl around an invisible hilt. They walked towards the prana signature, but stopped abruptly when they turned a corner, finding their way closer to its source. Strewn about the street were the mutilated corpses of five human beings, each in various states of disrepair. Strangely, there was no blood, but the sight was gruesome nevertheless, each person's body torn to pieces and their chests hollowed out.

 _It reminds me of..._ , Shirou thought, trailing off when he realized the implication of what he was seeing. Magus and servant nodded at one another and sped forward, arriving at the mouth of an alley. They saw a feminine figure hunched over another, long black hair curtaining the first woman from view. Strewn about the woman were various corpses, each hollowed and unnaturally dry.

Arthur's face tightened noticeably.

"Morgan," he said, addressing the figure, who turned around and allowed the two to see the results of her work.

"Hello, brother," Morgan said, a sanguine froth pouring from the ruined torso of the corpse below. Shirou could almost physically feel the mana in the air funneling into the Caster-class servant. He projected an unadorned blade, using it as a cane to steady himself. The magus stared in horror at the desiccated bodies of the civilians, his servant doing the same.

 _That's the woman Lancer shoved to the side when he saw us,_ Shirou realized, looking closely at the person Morgan was draining. _Oh no..._

"I've just finished here," she continued, touching a hand to the blood-foam and swirling it between her fingers. It turned a deep indigo at her touch and began to disintegrate, gloving her hand in color as it aetherized. She trailed a hand across the wall beside her, leaving faint lines of glowing blue. Arthur brought Excalibur forward, dissipating its sheath to point the golden sword at his half-sister.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?," asked the woman, a small smile adorning her face.

"Morgan, I believed you to have repented," Arthur said, his face rigid. "But I see that, whatever your actions in life, you are not currently the woman I knew last. Do you have any last words before I return you to death?"

The enemy servant laughed before she spoke. Her eyes gleamed.

"Only one."

Shirou desperately reinforced himself, his intuition screaming at him as he turned to the mouth of the passageway.

" **Activate!** "

He caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure, head bowed, and the alley erupted in crimson.

* * *

 **AN:** One of the few times I had to pause and just look at a sentence came when I tried to figure out the plural of magecraft. (It is in fact...magecraft, assuming it follows the grammatical rules applicable to spacecraft. It's the moose/fish of the meta-magical world, I suppose.)

Ansuz is not actually the rune of fire, despite its use in canon; that would be Ken/Kenaz, the one Lancer used here to, well, set Shirou on fire.

Aetherized isn't a word, but "turned to aether, the material of the theosophic realm of the akashic records and of the luminiferous medium, vanishing from the physical plane" is far too wordy, not to mention far too pretentious.

I'll rewrite this in the future, as always.


	7. Chapter 7

In the half second that Shirou took to call the first weapon that came to mind, the alley itself attempted to skewer him and his servant. A desperate jump to his right prevented an unnaturally sharp spike formed of the alley wall from piercing his side, a small lean backwards stopped a thin garrote of rock from severing his neck, and a swipe with the weapon he had called neatly bisected the torrent of stone raging towards his position. Shirou looked to his hands and saw Treildfigen, the iron blade no worse for wear after its collision with the rock flowing as liquid. He rolled forward, escaping the walls attempting to crush him for his inattention, and Shirou took the millisecond he gained from the maneuver to glimpse his servant.

Arthur whirled in a tornado of stone, dodging made unnecessary for the king through his sublime skill. Shirou caught sight of the king slicing faster than he could blink, disenchanting the hostile locus through complete dismemberment; Excalibur seemed less a sword than a strand of golden light as it flashed through strikes near instantaneously. Shirou's awareness was stolen by the alley rising up to meet him, the only thing preventing a concussion his earlier reinforcement. The boy leapt from his crouch, narrowly avoiding a spike appearing where his head lay prior, and called forth another set of blades. Kanshou and Bakuya came to his aid, his arms moving without conscious thought to vivisect the encroaching forest of stone spines. Before he could contemplate their near-autonomy further, he was forced to twist to avoid two spiked pillars rising from the ground where last stood his legs. He began forming and hurtling nameless blades towards the mouth of the alley, the barrage crumbling the weaker rock barring its path, and tried to slide through the narrow gap he'd made. The stone stabbed him as he slid, twin gashes slicing their way through his thighs and waist, but he ignored the pain and jumped forward into the street.

What greeted him was a high wave of asphalt crashing forward towards the passage. Shirou risked a look backwards and saw a wall of rock sealing his path, but a golden swipe splintered the stone. Arthur smashed through the barrier, racing towards his master, who felt rather than saw the shadow of the road towering above him. From the magus' back came a burst of prana as another wave formed, the ground beneath Shirou's feet slipping as the asphalt tide receded. Craning his neck upwards, he saw Morgan looking on from atop one building adjacent to the alley, the enchantress directing the waves in a deadly symphony. The second wave rose between servant and master, cutting Shirou off from the king.

 _Damn it,_ _ _I have to do this without Arthur_ , _he thought, doing his best to balance atop the shifting street. _T_ _his will probably kill me, but probably is better than definitely._

Shirou pictured Galatine, from its sharp steel cladding to its gradiated blue core, its composite hilt patterning a grey spearhead in a plane of tinted ceramic. He grasped at its perforated hilt as it formed from the aether, his stance unconsciously adjusted for Gawain's sword and its name on his lips. Shirou's circuits churned as he prepared to replicate his servant's deed, beginning to sound out the word.

" **Gala-** "

 _"Use a command seal!,"_ Arthur yelled across their connection, the medium of communication less important than the speed thereof. _"Invoking the blade will kill you!"_

 _"How can you possibly help if we're both trapped?!_ _,"_ Shirou returned, the first wave crashing down.

He abandoned the dialogue as he began to vocalize the name of Gawain's blade once more, but he looked upwards and saw he had no time, shutting his mouth and concentrating inward. Shirou flew past his circuits, skirting them to focus on the markings granted by the grail.

 _" Save me!," _he thought, directing a flow of prana to his right hand while he called for Arthur's aid.

As energy leapt from his spine to his arm, the wind spun around him, its cyclical vectors laced in magic. Louder grew the air, yet louder, and the wave's crest dropped, doming Shirou in darkness. The howling gale encircled the magus, the prana flow from seal to servant cut by the winds, and Shirou prepared for death, memories of his father's dream clouding his head. Scarlet and Amber danced across Shirou's vision while the liquid road collapsed, visions of fire searing through his mind through the din about him. In a burst of garnet a man cloaked in red appeared, the asphalt splitting around his form. He reached out a hand to the boy, who stared at it before grasping it. The street fell atop them, but the winds roared, and they vanished.

A confusing instant later, Shirou was atop the building with Morgan, watching as cyan shone through the tarmac wave buffeting Arthur. Sporadic but consistent deep blue flashes from below showed that the king was easily fighting on, the Caster-class servant's trap only a minor impediment at best to her incarnated brother. Shirou felt a surge of prana leave him as his servant fought on below, causing him to gasp and Morgan to turn. The woman scowled at the magus and made to palm the ground, but a blast of heat under her hands caused her to back away. She stared at the man who accompanied Shirou, her mouth curved into an almost petulant frown. The magus retreated slightly, angling his head to view his savior and twice-attempted killer both.

The man was of vaguely average proportions, but would otherwise look entirely alien to contemporary Japan. His dark brown hair fell to the nape of his neck, paralleled by the full and unkempt beard on his face jutting to a similar position in front. His eyes were a light brown, the deeply tanned skin around them unblemished, but Shirou saw a wariness present in his gaze, one indicating much greater age than his unwrinkled face. He wore plain brown robes, tied at the waist by a leather belt, and above them lay a sleeveless red cloak wrapping about his form, its hood down for the moment.

Below the three came an azure shine, and the road split above Arthur, separating neatly in two. As Shirou watched, his servant looked upward and jumped, blade outstretched. In the same moment, Morgan folded in on herself, her form shrinking and reappearing as an entire aviary, birds of every color and size erupting from her prior position. The animals scattered as Arthur leapt, a wave of air leaving his sword – _Arondight, divine sword of Lancelot du Lac,_ Shirou knew – and splitting twenty birds to pieces. Again and again the servant sent arcs of power towards the flock, his blade pulsing cerulean with restrained prana, but it made no dent in the illusory avifauna, each wave formed anew once destroyed.

The king scowled, an expression of intense concentration crossing his features for the shortest of moments. Arondight fell back into his arsenal and an invisible blade appeared in its place, currents of air swirling about the sword. Shirou felt another drain, greater than before, and Excalibur exited its invisible sheath, the king seemingly ready to use it despite the public nature of the locale. The magus grimaced as the blade lit in sequence, each of the diamond patterns on its surface clicking in turn before bursting into white light.

 _I have a very bad feeling about my chances of survival if Excalibur is used here and now,_ Shirou pondered. _I don't think the mere possibility of slaying Morgan is worth the lives of Arthur and myself, murderer or not, but he knows her better than I do._

 _"Arthur, are you certain–,"_ the magus began, but the king spun around, re-sheathing his blade in wind as its glow died down.

 _"Shirou?_ , _"_ asked Arthur, wide-eyed. _"You still live?"_

Shirou looked towards his servant, confused at the king's query. _"Why would you think I was dead? Don't you feel a connection to me through the master-servant bond?"_

 _"The connection vanished as the wave of concrete fell over you, and I flew into a bit of a rage,"_ Arthur transmitted back, a small, sheepish smile on his face. He paused for a moment, then continued his thought. _"It appears to have returned. I am glad to see that you remain among the living, regardless."_

The Saber-class servant gestured at Shirou's silent savior. _"I presume the unidentified servant standing at your side was responsible for your rescue?"_

"Yeah, he was," Shirou confirmed out loud, "though I'm not sure why."

Arthur turned to the cloaked man, his stance guarded but nonthreatening.

"Would you be willing to introduce yourself?," the king asked. "I wish to properly thank you for aiding my companion, and that is not an easy task if I do not know your name."

The red-and-brown-clad man nodded. "I am servant Rider," he said. His speech contained a mild accent that Shirou couldn't place, though the man's Japanese was crisp and fluent.

 _"_ Why did you save me?," Shirou asked, getting to the point as quickly as possible. "I don't think I know you, and while I appreciate what you did, I'm a bit confused."

Rider kept a neutral facade as he replied. "My master commanded it."

"Who is your master? Were you commanded to save me in particular?"

Rider's response was a forceful stare, implicitly questioning the magus' intellect for thinking the servant would answer either question.

 _I probably should have expected that,_ Shirou thought, giving a sigh. _Maybe I should take a different tack..._

"Questions aside, I really do want to thank you. I was about to use a command seal, and I'm not certain that even my servant–" the magus pointed at Arthur, "would have been able to save me in the split-second between his summoning and the street falling on my head."

Rider looked on impassively, a shallow incline of his head serving as acknowledgement.

Shirou took a deep breath. "Which is why I'd like to invite you and your master over for lunch, as thanks."

The two servants reacted very differently to the offer. Rider's eyes widened, and one corner of his mouth turned upwards.

"I would be honored," the servant said, "though my master will be unable to attend."

Arthur, in contrast, initiated a mental discourse.

 _"I suppose this tactic found success with Ms. Tohsaka, but I question whether it will do so once again. Judging by your question, you do not know who Rider's master is, and, moreover, he or she will not be attending,"_ Arthur cautioned. " _While it is too late to retract the offer, we must both be on our utmost guard."_ _  
_

 _"Oh, I'm definitely aware that this is a risk: for all I know, Rider will attack the both of us when we arrive,"_ responded Shirou. _"That said, he saved my life, and I owe him some degree of trust for that."  
_

 _"No, Shirou, you do not,"_ Arthur replied in turn, his face grave. " _We will talk more of this later, but I do not think you are treating the grail war with the solemnity it requires. You have almost perished three times thus far, and while I will not stop you from taking risks, you cannot rely on luck or goodwill when faced with those who wish for your death. That Rider has not yet raised weapon against you means little for his future intentions."_

 _"I know that,"_ Shirou rejoindered, _"but it's not as though I'm offering out of_ _ _naiveté_ or optimism. I believe our best chance at gleaning information from Rider is with a friendly approach, and if we gain another ally for it, so much the better. It's a calculated risk, first and foremost, though I might have offered even without the intelligence aspect."_

 _"I cannot fault your reasoning overmuch,_ _ _"_ _ Arthur concluded _. _"_ Nevertheless, there is a fair amount to discuss on the topic, __but it is perhaps a discussion best served for later."_

Shirou turned to Rider, who was staring at the dialogists with irritation clear on his face.

"Sorry for the delay. Anyway, follow me and I'll take you to my house," the magus said. "Do you need to tell your master that you'll be missing for a bit?"

Rider shook his head. "I can be at my master's side in an instant, should I so desire. It may be faster to demonstrate than to explain. Where is your house located?"

 _Judging by how he saved me from Morgan's trap, he likely has some form of instant movement,_ Shirou grasped, the seeming non-sequitur of a question quickly understood. _But to only need a location...that's dangerous._

"What sort of information do you need?," Shirou asked. His eyes narrowed as he considered the ramifications of a servant capable of teleportation. "Does a description of the outside of the house work?"

"Oh, you've already given me what I needed," Rider said, a sharp smile adorning his face. "You are a very interesting person, Shirou Emiya."

 _I never told him my name,_ the magus instantly realized, _which means I need to tread even more carefully._

"In that case, what do my servant and I have to do?," asked Shirou, avoiding the issue of Rider's knowledge for the moment.

"Stand still."

Rider's answer came with a rush of heat, corkscrewing with cold air as it ringed the three who stood on the rooftop. A low hum filled the air as the strands of wind comprising the circle began to spin faster, and in a burst of nothing, they were gone.

* * *

Negligibly later, Shirou found himself in front of his house, Arthur to his left and Rider to his right. They were stood adjacent to the shed in which the boy had summoned Arthur, the first place he'd almost died at Morgan's hand. To the magus' concern, no one else was present. He scanned the length of the road, but there was no sign of Rin or Archer. He swiveled around again, hoping that he'd somehow missed them upon arrival.

 _They couldn't have lost, right?,_ Shirou thought, resisting the urge to ask Rider to transport the group to Rin's house. _Damn it!_

Arthur clasped a hand to his master's shoulder.

"I presume you are searching for your classmate and her servant?," Arthur half-stated, half-asked, a note of sympathy apparent in his voice. "I do not think working yourself into an anxiety-fueled frenzy is liable to aid them. I understand your fear, but you would do well to have faith in our allies."

"I know that, but I just hate the thought of being unable to save my friend from danger," Shirou said, a deep breath preceding his next words. "There's definitely some fear involved, but it's more anger and self-hatred at my inability to help. If Rin ends up dead because we focused on Lancer, I'm not sure I'll be able to forgive myself."

The king gave a sad smile and a nod, but didn't respond further. The three passed the next couple of minutes in silence before Arthur stiffened and Rider vanished, a swirl of wind the only indication of his departure. Shirou flinched at the gust, but any further contemplation was put on hold by Arthur's contact.

"Shirou, I am rather certain that Rin is nearing our location. However, she is accompanied by not one but two servants–" the king concentrated, a look of unease passing over his features, "and as I speak, a third has joined the advancing company." _  
_

 _We've met all the servants, and with the probable exception of Berserker thanks to Illya, any of the other 5 could reasonably team up to kill Arthur and I. If Rin really has betrayed us –_ a thrill of disquiet shot through Shirou at the possibility – _I really hope I can stop her without anyone dying. There's also the possibility of a hostage situation, which might be even worse. Ugh._

As he considered the possibilities of the situation further, Shirou frowned, but slowly let go of the expression and emotion, forcing calm on himself.

"I guess it's time to put that trust in Rin to the test, then," he said, resisting the urge to charge in his fellow magus' direction. "Any idea of when they'll get here?"

"I would estimate that they will arrive in no more than 15 seconds," Arthur said, the tenseness in his stance betraying his own anxiety. "Shirou, if we have both misjudged your classmate's character, I suspect I will have to use one of my more prana intensive techniques just to survive the encounter. Are you prepared for such a possibility?"

An affirmative grunt came from the preoccupied magus, who recognized that preparation in this case meant finding shelter for both servant and master.

 _I really, really hope she hasn't betrayed us. I don't actually think she would, but–_ his train of thought was cut off by the sound of an argument in the distance, a deep-voiced man clashing strongly with a teenage girl.

"I'm pretty sure that's Rin and Berserker," Shirou said, relieved. "It's good to stay on guard, but I think we were worried over nothing."

Arthur relaxed as he heard the debate, a small smile breaking out on his features. "I agree."

The sounds of verbal sparring grew louder as the group of three servants and one magus turned to enter Shirou's block.

"–I said, for the last time, it's not okay! I'm not okay with it!," came Rin's voice. Her face was tomato red, and her lips were turned to a frightening scowl. She was carrying two books under her arm, one bound in leathery blue and the other in plain beige.

Next to her stood Rider, who sported a worried frown, Archer, who looked very amused, though he shot continued uneasy glances at Rider, and Berserker, wearing a patch over the eye he'd removed, who smirked as he spoke.

"And again, she's _technically_ not his – Oh! Hello," Berserker interrupted himself to say, noticing Shirou and Arthur. His grin opened wider. "We were just talking about you, Shirou."

 _I get the feeling I'm going to wish they came with less pure intentions,_ Shirou considered, showing none of his apprehension on his face.

"What were you saying about me?," he asked, bracing himself.

"We were talking about how Illya seems to have developed some amount of affection–"

"Don't you dare–," Rin tried to interrupt.

"–for you," finished Berserker, ignoring the female magus.

"Oh? That's good, I like her too," Shirou said, smiling. Rin blanched, and Rider covered his eyes.

Berserker seemed entirely too happy to correct Shirou. "Not in the same way, I think. Illya sees you as a potential boyfriend."

Shirou's eyes bulged as Archer finally broke down into a fit of laughter.

"That's not – I don't – She's my younger sister!," the boy stammered, to Rin's obvious relief.

" _Adopted_ sister," corrected Berserker. Arthur let out a guffaw of his own while Rider shook his head, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

 _Yeah,_ Shirou thought, _I'd prefer it if they were trying to kill me._

It took multiple vehement denials, to the eventual amusement of all others present, but Shirou eventually proclaimed his rejection of the mere idea of dating his sister. Berserker in turn conveyed Illya's lack of concern with Shirou's refusal, declaring by proxy her intent to "capture her big brother's heart." Archer and Rider apparently found this too much, leaving the group for parts unknown before returning minutes later, the bowman and traveler both stony-faced upon their reentrance. Shirou noticed that their respective expressions of strong cheer and second-hand embarrassment regarding his situation were somewhat forged, but didn't comment on it.

"So, Berserker, why are you even here?," Shirou asked, unlocking his front door and inviting the party of five in. "I thought you'd be staying with Illya."

"My presence was apparently distracting her from her video games," the hulking servant replied. "I was exploring the town when I ran into Archer and Rin, then decided to tag along with them. Illya demanded that I return to pick her up when she learned we were on our way to your house, but I've learned to tune her out."

"Well, you might as well join us for lunch," Shirou said, making his way to the dining room. "I'm happy to cook for as many people as are willing to eat."

Berserker ran a hand through his hair, speaking up somewhat hesitantly.

"Actually, I don't think I'll be able to eat anything you serve." The strongest servant shot a look at Rider, who gave a minute nod, before Berserker continued. "I'd be happy to stay, however: I find that pleasant company is a fine addition to any meal."

Rider spoke up then. "On the topic of remaining for lunch, I will not be able to do so. My master requires my presence. I do apologize, but I must go."

The bearded man gave a nod to everyone in the room, before making his way to the door, where he paused, turning to the male magus stood beside him.

"Oh, and Mr. Emiya?"

"Yes?," came the responding question from Shirou.

Rider leaned forward, whispering in between Arthur and his master. "The key to infusing divine fire is to remember that you are not the being invoked by the flame. I am certain I will be seeing you and Arthur later, but this is farewell for now."

"Wait, how do you–," Shirou began, stopping when a twist of wind indicated Rider's abrupt departure. "Damn it!"

 _"He knows my name, and he knows of your power,"_ Arthur mentally stated. _"It seems that y_ _ _ou were correct in inviting him to your home to glean intelligence; h_ owever, I fear that he has left us with more questions than answers."_

 _"I certainly can't disagree with that,"_ Shirou sourly replied. _"He could have at least tried to be less cryptic."_

"Emiya, what exactly was Rider talking about?," asked Rin, interrupting Shirou and his servant.

"It's a personal matter, Rin," Shirou said tersely, not quite managing to hide his response to Rider's news. "Nothing for you to worry about."

Rin's eyes narrowed.

"Does it involve the grail war? If so, I was under the distinct impression that we were allies," she said, her tone kept light despite her piercing gaze.

"Only incidentally," Shirou replied to her question, sidestepping the nature of their alliance. "It has more to do with my magecraft than anything."

"Both of those are topics I'm quite interested in," Rin persisted, "and given that I ended up fighting Assassin just to grab two books–" she tossed said books unceremoniously onto the table, "I am _not_ going to be happy if your reluctance to reveal what Rider told you ends up invalidating my help."

 _Do I lie again?,_ Shirou thought, pros and cons tumbling through his head. _Can I risk the alliance on it? On the one hand, having another master and servant on my side is invaluable, but on the other, this is my one surefire way of actually harming future opponents. Is alienating Rin worth keeping Archer in the dark? Ugh.  
_

He took a deep breath as Rin stared at him expectantly.

"As of right now, I need to test some stuff," he said, putting off the revelation. "I'm nearly positive that the thing Rider told me won't change the efficacy of your research, but I'll let you know if that stops being true. It's not like I don't want to figure out exactly what's going on, probably more than you do."

"See that you do," said Rin, who gave a grudging nod and sat at the table, crossing one leg over the other. "Regardless, I believe we should combine what little intelligence we gathered from the point of our separation onward. Of course, there's one rather large issue with that plan."

"What's the problem?," Shirou asked. "If it's about not prying into personal matters, I think we're both willing to respect each other's privacy."

Rin jerked a thumb in the direction of Berserker, who was avidly watching the byplay, a small smile on his face.

 _Oh. Right._

Berserker gave a sheepish chuckle and raised his hands, palms outward.

"Alright, I can see when I'm not wanted," he said, turning to leave.

 _Well,_ Shirou thought, _this is actually a pretty great opportunity to add to our little alliance._

"Hey, Berserker?," the male magus asked, grabbing the hulking servant's attention. "Is Illya watching through you right now?"

"Yeah. She has some very uncomplimentary things to say about Ms. Tohsaka, though I'm not inclined to pass them on at the moment."

Rin visibly bit back a retort, but a scowl leaked onto her face despite her best efforts.

"Would she be willing to join our alliance?," Shirou asked, ignoring the byplay.

"Excuse me?!," Rin squawked. "Since when do _you_ get to decide who joins us?"

For his part, Berserker winced.

"She says yes, and somehow managed to scream it despite not actually speaking." He paused. "And now she's mad at me for revealing that."

"Great!," said Shirou with a smile, "it'll be good to have another servant/master pair on our side."

"Hold on!," Rin interjected, grabbing her male counterpart's regard. "Shirou, she tried to kill you when we met!"

"She certainly didn't seem as though she wanted to kill me by the end of that fight," he responded.

"Fine, but she seems intent on pulling you into a romantic relationship; how does _that_ not bother you?"

"I'm sure she'll get over–," Shirou began, though he paused as Berserker held up a hand.

"Illya says that she isn't going to give up just because her big brother doesn't yet share her feelings," the servant transmitted. Rin apparently couldn't decide whether to be smug or worried as her face rapidly shifted between the two emotions. Shirou looked like he swallowed something foul.

"Well, Illya's, er, intentions aside, I'm not sure why you have a problem with this, Rin," Shirou said, steadying himself. "My most certainly platonic relationship with Illya isn't really something you should be concerned about, I'd think."

"You're right," Rin said with a sigh, and her face flushed slightly. "As long as you promise not to indulge Illya, I'm fine with her addition to the alliance."

"My master really doesn't like you, Rin," Berserker faithfully communicated, preventing Shirou from responding to Rin's acceptance. "She's been insulting you for the past while. I particularly like 'inelegant hedge magus', but I'm also partial to 'Shirou's parasitic, crimson limpet'."

"That ten-year-old witch called me a _what_?," Rin growled. "Little miss red-eye can shove–"

Archer spoke up _,_ startling Shirou and defusing the potential Rin-shaped explosion.

"If we're going to ally with Emiya, we might as well ally with von Einzbern as well."

"I agree with the statement, though perhaps not the sentiment," Arthur added. "The greater our alliance, the better our chances of securing the grail."

At Arthur's statement, the group fell into a lull, prompting Shirou to stretch slightly.

"Well, now that we've decided on that, I'm going to go make lunch. Does fish sound good?"

A chorus of nods greeted his question, and the magus walked into the kitchen, humming a slight tune.

* * *

"I'm somewhat disappointed that I couldn't eat any of that," Berserker said, the remnants of various sushi and sashimi dishes present on the dining room table. "I quite enjoy what few seafood dishes I can have, but it's a rather restrictive list."

"Is there a particular reason for those restrictions?," Shirou asked, curious, as he collected the leftovers.

Berserker looked apologetic as he spoke.

"You'll have to ask Illya if you want that information; I can't say more," he stated, standing and rolling his shoulders. "I should get going. It was very nice to meet you all outside of battle, and I'll be back for dinner with Emiya's future paramour."

With that, the servant strode out of the room, giving a small wave as he left.

Shirou stood as well, turning to Rin.

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to actually work with Arthur for a while. We got sidetracked this morning, and considering I've nearly died two times since then, strategizing and training is more than a little important."

Rin's head snapped to him.

"You almost _died?!_ ," she shouted, her face pale. "Why are you just now telling me about this?!"

"It's not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation, Rin," Shirou said. "Besides, I'm still alive, so it all worked out, no?"

"You're unbelievable, Shirou," Rin groaned, shaking her head. "But to answer your implicit question, go ahead and train with Saber. I'll discuss tactics with Archer in the meantime, and we can discuss your blasé attitude towards your life later."

Shirou walked out of the room and Arthur trailed behind him, stoic as ever. The king spoke, his voice the only thing audible beyond the soft tread of the pairs' footsteps.

"For obvious reasons, I have no objection to aiding you in your quest for our mutual survival, but..."

Arthur trailed off, seemingly uncertain.

"But what?," asked a curious Shirou.

"But, before we begin, we need to engage in a frank discussion of how you have approached the grail war up to this point," said the king, the two making their way into the training room vacated that morning. "I told you this just after I met Rider: I fear you misunderstand the severity of the war."

"How so?"

"You have been blessed with fantastic fortune thus far. Two servants are your allies, a third saved your life for reasons as yet unknown, a fourth disregarded you in favor of Ms. Tohsaka, and a fifth appeared rather willing to leave you out of the conflict. The only servant thus far who has deliberately attacked you is Morgan, and even then it is my personal belief that you were not her primary target," Arthur said. "This is by no means a probabilistically likely course of events."

"I'm listening," Shirou neutrally replied, "but all that you've stated so far are facts. I have yet to see any reason to believe that I'm not taking the grail war seriously enough."

"It is less a case of your commitment to the war than your attitude towards its combatants. Imagine that Archer sought to slay you in your sleep, or that Rider sought entrance to your home for the sake of murdering Rin and Archer alongside you and I. These were both exceedingly realistic possibilities, and your desire to ally with our ordained foes could easily have led us to ruin."

"So your point is that I'm being too trusting? I can't say I agree," Shirou mused. "Perhaps I'm less cynical than most, but is taking no risks at all really the best possible course of action for the war? Maybe if my only aim was to win at all costs, sure. I'm sympathetic to your desire to achieve the grail, and would very much like to see you come out on top of the conflict, but that's secondary to my desire to prevent unnecessary death. When I take these risks, I do so out of a combination of calculation and belief. The fewer rogue servants there are, the more the whole thing can be contained, and if I can prevent deaths by extending an olive branch to my fellow combatants, it goes against everything I believe in to do otherwise. In an ideal world, the seven of you would engage in a series of regulated battles, one winner would emerge, and no innocents would be harmed. The closer I can get to that, the better."

"I suppose I cannot demand that you share my goals any more than you can demand I take on yours," Arthur said, a rueful smile emerging on his face. "Very well. While your rigid preference for negotiation and trust are disagreeable to me, they are incidental to the greater point of this conversation."

"And what is that greater point?," the magus asked.

 _"Shirou, unless you obtain the ability and power of a servant, you are not strong enough to be a great help against our foes,"_ Arthur transmitted mentally, not softening the blow in the least. _"It is hard to say, though I am certain it is harder to hear, but it needs to be stated. I fear that when next you join battle, the tools I have at my disposal will not be enough to save you. Berserker missed your heart by the narrowest of margins, and his second blow would have you dead if not for your invocation of Sir Kay's spirit. Lancer nearly roasted you alive, and though you were rescued by my use of Galatine, you would have perished had he called forth lightning in place of flame. Morgan crushed you beneath a wave of asphalt, and you survived only through Rider's intervention. These are not nearly the maximum abilities a servant may possess. We are not beings that can be fought through merely copying blades of legend."  
_

The king sighed and shook his head.

 _"I take no pleasure in this, but I will not stand idly by and watch a child destroy himself. As you are now, you are no match for our foes, and thus I cannot condone your inclusion in future battles."_

Shirou grimaced, taking time to collect his thoughts before responding.

 _"I don't think I can disagree with any of that, at least rationally. It's true that I've almost died three times since your summoning, and it's definitely true that being able to copy legendary weapons doesn't make me a servant's equal. If that was all I could do, I'd still fight by your side, but your allowance of such would be enforced by command seal."_

Arthur stared at Shirou with an inscrutable expression. The magus continued, conscious of but not overly affected by Arthur's probing gaze.

 _"However, I realized something earlier, back in the alley that Morgan turned into a deathtrap. I'm not just getting the form of the weapons I copy: I'm getting some of their wielders' skills as well. When we fought Lancer, I actually managed to hit him with Gwydnawr, which shouldn't have been possible, even if the lance did triple my ability to wield it. In the aforementioned alley, I summoned those two swords Archer likes to use, and I started cutting away the stone attacking me without conscious effort. Sure, I wasn't moving as fast or striking as powerfully as a servant might, but speed and strength can be substituted for by skill, borrowed or otherwise."  
_

He paused for emphasis.

 _"Beyond that, I have the power of divine fire, and if I combine some amount of increased skill with increased lethality, I'm sure I can harm enemy servants nearly as easily as you can. "_

 _"Do you not recall the last two times you attempted to utilize the divine flame while calling forth a legendary weapon?,"_ Arther asked rhetorically. _"You collapsed, trembling, upon calling forth Clyfodran. If that were all, perhaps you could forge past your weakness and grow into strength. But, and it is possible that you did not realize, something concerning occurred when you invoked my foster brother's sword."_

 _"I didn't notice anything wrong,"_ Shirou said, half to himself. _"At least, nothing different than when I summoned Sir Bors' blade, and I'm sure I can accustom myself to that."_

 _"I felt an echo of Kay's presence overlaying yours when you called forth Treildfigen. As you kept the blade active, the connection grew stronger, and the two of you began to merge. Taking Rider's earlier words as a warning, I fear that you run the risk of subsuming yourself in whomever you should invoke. Please, Shirou, do not risk your demise just to fight at my side."  
_

 _"It isn't just to fight at your side, Arthur,"_ said the magus, his temper rising. _"It's for the sake of my ideals, and if I weren't willing to court death for them, I wouldn't hold them in the first place. I'm only alive because my father risked his life to save mine, and I've dedicated myself to doing the same for those I care about. Ten years I've spent building myself from nothing, and this desire to help others in need is too important for me to abandon it just because there's a chance of my death. I won't run in for no reason, but if I believe I can help you, I will, no matter the risk."_

 _"Without greater strength, you are as liable to die as you are to aid me. Those are not odds worth playing, Shirou,"_ Arthur heatedly replied. _"The route you seek to increasing power is equally likely to result in your death. Are you certain I cannot dissuade you? Are you that convinced of your course?"_

 _"Yes. No matter the level of danger, I won't allow you to face it alone. That's not who I am, and, more importantly, not who I want to be."_

 _"I see,"_ Arthur said, a note of resignation coloring his voice. _"I protest your decision, but I hold my own beliefs in too high regard to deny you your own. Might you at least test your proficiency here and now, where there exists a chance of aborting the process without ill result?"_

A satisfied smile threatened to break out on Shirou's face, but he clamped down on his emotions as he responded.

 _"I see no reason not to try it right now, so sure."_

The magus concentrated intently, seeking within himself the echo of Galatine. He willed prana to the idea of the sword, from it's tapered blade to its pitted hilt, and–

 _Well after Arthur returned from his time with Nimue, Gawain entered her glade, and the sun shone brighter above him, its light sparkling upon the surface of the lake. Patterns of the light came together as the lady knelt, and water rose to meet the now disparate rays of light emanating from Sol above. Solid color twisted with viscous water in a sphere of twirling hue, and the mixture spun to a glowing silver before collapsing into a blade, which–_ Shirou's spine began to burn as something within him thrummed, and he continued his focus on Gawain's blade, from its gradient blue-grey center to its steel rain-guard patterned after a crown, and–

 _The blade saw action against the minions of Ysbaddaden on Culhwch's quest for Olwen's hand, Gawain wielding it alongside Kay, Bedivere, and the three shapeshifting–_ He pushed past the pulses traveling his spine to think on the disparate material of the lower blade, its promethean design of fae metal and steel shaped into a spear head flowing into the metal above, and–

 _Galatine was used in clash after clash on the path between Camelot and the castle of Bertilak, as Gawain sought the Green Knight, who–_ Shirou's breathing turned ragged as an indistinct form appeared in his grasp. He narrowed his thoughts to the perforated grip and elongated pentagonal pommel, the band of sliver at the apex of the grip, and–

 _In the siege of Joyous Gard, Galatine met Arondight thrice, but Gawain was repelled each time by Lancelot. By war's end, the sword of the sun was–_ He saw the sword stabbing into the hill of green, and through waves of almost-pain looked upon its form, peering beneath the metal, and–

 _Its final act was in combat against Mordred, the two heirs to Camelot battling at Gawain's insistence. Arthur's son brought low the king's nephew, with–_ Shirou saw the sword free from himself, and the blade appeared in his hand, its outline ringed in grey fire.

He felt a pounding in his head as flashes of Gawain's life became a stream, then a torrent, the thoughts of the long-dead knight surging their way into the magus. Shirou's mind felt rent in two as hatred for Lancelot and compassion for Mordred rooted themselves in his psyche, a life he never lived creeping slowly through the opened door.

He gasped as he grappled with the tide of memories, prana lighting up the circuitry about his body. His spine was numb through the pain, and Galatine glowed, its grey outline shifting lighter in tone as Shirou struggled to retain himself. A discordant thrum built in him, and his attention wavered. What might have once been Gawain seized the moment, rushing to fill the corridors of mind vacated in the magus' search for defensible position.

From thoughts of his father Shirou crafted a countermove, a wall of yearning erected between memories of the long dead and the just passed. He took greedy breaths of air, ignoring the jolting along his nerves as he feverishly reinforced the mental blockade. The magus looked to his servant, who opened his mouth and spoke.

"Have you succeeded?," asked Arthur, an expression of concern readily apparent on his leonine face.

Shirou gave a shallow nod.

"I–," Shirou began, but his minute disregard for the incursion led to resurgent attack, and that which made up Gawain broke ever farther into the sanctum of the boy's mind, trampling over the mental barrier erected a moment prior. Galatine pulsed white, and he began to lose himself to the spirit called forth alongside its blade.

 _"I'm not Gawain!,"_ he cried internally, forming barrier after barrier in the path of the consuming entity. Prana danced across his body, and his circuits twisted as another set gradually overlaid them. The magus' honey-brown eyes were tinting a bright blue, his irides shifting color from the outer rim inwards. The tips of his hair began to bleach as golden blond replaced deep auburn.

"I'm not–!," screamed Shirou, his vision doubling. His T-shirt weaved steel links out of cloth, a chainmail hauberk forming from the mundane garment.

 _I'm–,_ they thought, memories of the charnel house ten years past merging with those of a war fought a millennium and a half ago. Devotion to a king spun from trust in a servant, the object of their thoughts the same. Two fathers overlapped in their mind, both dark and troubled but loving above all else. A mother and a sister became one, an ethereal woman with heterochromatic red and green eyes staring from a face framed in silver-gold hair.

"Shirou!, _"_ came a cry from Arthur, his voice desperate. "Remember who you are!"

"I–", they whimpered, clutching at their head with the hand not grasping the sword of the sun.

Brothers one lost flickered with those the other never had, four knighted men mourned without regard for their dying acts. Gingalain, Lovell, Florence– names poured into the consciousness of the dual being, forcing out those beloved prior. Ragnelle replaced Rin in their head as dreams of what might be were consumed by musings on what once was, a neoteric companion overwritten by one lost in antiquity. Chivalry and heroism twisted into a single dream, but the boy was slowly overtaken by the knight, memory by cherished memory, thought by grudging thought.

 _I...  
_

"Shirou, _remember!_ "

 _"I am...!"  
_

 _A smiling man, a cavalcade of tears streaming from his eyes in utter elation. An incandescent figure brandishing a weapon, both blade and form glowing bright. A scabbard resting beneath a lake. A sword burning before a gate.  
_

 **" I am the light of my blade!"  
**

Galatine's edge lit up in yellow light as its core turned a burning white. Sky-blue cracks spiderwebbed along its surface until they crossed every inch of the blade, pieces of Gawain's sword breaking away to reveal a near perfect copy of the weapon, the only difference between the old and the new a pattern of runes winding about from tip to crossguard. A golden glow traveled down the spiral of runes before reaching the hilt and pulsing silver, and in the next second, the blade turned transparent, its edges melting away to reveal a see-through frame with a single strand of burning ivory at its center. In a flash, the muted glow lit in fire, the glass blade filling to the edges with amber flame flowing from the thin line of white. The hilt began to shimmer gray and blue in sequence, gold shining from within the perforated grip, and as the core pulsed again, the light extended past the sword of the sun.

As the wave of color soared through him, Shirou's arm became cloaked in cyan and silver, the entirety of his body then outlined in a double-coat of the glimmering hues. The amber fire traveled from the sword until it covered the whole of his limb, its searing glow a contrast to the two-toned aura enveloping the rest of his form. His eyes and hair shined the color of steel, and for a fraction of a moment, the sedate training room was replaced by a shimmering green hill, dotted with blades and encircled by an endless sea of silver. An ethereal wind picked up, leeching the fire from Shirou and his sword, and then he stood guarded in perfect form, his stance not a speck out of line. His eyes glowed silver with a hint of azure, a portion of Gawain's vanished spirit broadening but not replacing that which made up the son of the Magus Killer, and he held Galatine aloft, an echo of its torch-flame present in a subtle grey glow about the weapon.

 _What did I..._ , the magus thought in wonder, staring alternately at the blade and himself. He brought Galatine through a series of slashes, flowing from one to the next without a moment's pause. Each blow was exemplarily balanced, and as Shirou increased the pace of his swings, he retained the same degree of skill.

 _How am I doing this?,_ Shioru pondered, his brow creased, as he slowed his motions into lazy sweeps. _Was I right about gaining skill alongside my projections?  
_

He frowned and brought his speed up once more, this time aiming for upward cleaves and downward slashes. _But I fought differently when I used Gwydnawr to wound Lancer, too, and that didn't come with near-possession. If so, what did I actually accomplish with the chant?  
_

Arthur interrupted Shirou's thoughts with a clang, the king bringing his own copy of Galatine to meet Shirou's as he spoke, his face stern.

"Shirou, I do not fully understand the events that occurred just now. However, I most certainly do understand swordplay, and your ability at the moment far outstrips that which you possessed this morning."

The magus shrugged in response.

 _"I'm not really sure what just happened either,"_ he said, switching to mental communication. _"But I seem to have gained quite a bit of skill, and I think I might have gotten the hang of the divine fire."_

"If that is indeed the case," Arthur stated, "then I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?"

"You claim that you possess strength enough to fight by my side for the remainder of this war. I offer you the chance to prove it."

Shirou smiled widely, rivulets of prana flowing from his spine to his extremities at his will. He held Galatine point outwards, mirroring Arthur's stance, and his eyes flashed blue as he answered the challenge.

"I accept."

* * *

 **AN:** I really don't want to swap from Shirou's perspective, though I might consider writing a side story doing so at some nebulous point in the future. There are a few reasons for it, the most immediate of which is to preserve the mystery aspect of the story. Sorry!

It turns out that dialogist, interlocutor, and collocutor all mean the same thing...someone who engages in conversation. Conversant used to mean that, but that usage is so out of date that it's past mere archaicism and into grammatically unsound territory. Ain't English grand?

One of my pet peeves in any story is characters taking questionable risks with minimal explanation. I'd be a hypocrite if I criticized it and then went about doing it myself, y'know?

I'll rewrite it in the future.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur stood with feet spread wide, holding his nephew's sword parallel to the floor. Galatine and its duplicate gleamed, the king's variant a muted silver, the magus' a fiery grey. Both Shirou and Arthur looked placid, but there was an undercurrent of tension to their expressions, a tightening about Arthur's eyes and a slight twist to Shirou's mouth the only indication of their respective disquiets. For an instant, neither combatant so much as twitched, servant and master each contemplating the other.

In the next, Arthur leapt forward at supranatural speed, an arc of silver light trailing behind him, and brought Galatine down in a two-handed slash. Steel met steel as Shirou brought his sword up to meet his servant's, sending pain shooting through the boy's reinforced limbs. The two struggled for a second, but Arthur overpowered his master, the proper sword pushing its twin inexorably downward as sparks flew from where the blades intersected. The magus grimaced and disengaged, ducking low as he kicked forward, tossing his copy of the sword to one hand to retain his balance. Arthur pivoted and swung in response, nearly severing Shirou's leg as the magus aborted his kick millimeters from the downward swipe. Shirou turned the king's momentum against him as he jumped and slashed in one motion, catching Arthur by surprise and scoring the servant's armor. Shirou paused in shock at his success and was punished for it by a spray of red, Arthur recovering from his momentary incapacitation to trace a line in blood across the boy's forearm.

 _Focus!,_ Shirou thought with a scowl, turning away two blows coming in quick succession from his left and right. He retaliated with a series of diagonal slashes, hoping but not believing that the cross-motion would disorient Arthur enough to land a hit. To his expectation, the servant weaved through the swipes without so much as a scratch, his immediate riposte forcing Shirou to twist sharply to his right. The magus brought his sword along the course of his spin and aimed for Arthur's right flank with a horizontal slice, but Arthur had already brought Galatine to meet the strike, and the two weapons crashed together with a sharp clang. Shirou allowed the weapons to slide off of one another, immediately launching into another flurry of slashes, but was forced to abort his maneuver when Arthur retaliated with twin slices of his own, a seamless transition between a horizontal strike and a downward lunge leaving Shirou with a shallow gash trailing down his already bloodied torso. Arthur did not escape entirely unscathed, however, and sported a cross-shaped scar on his breastplate.

Shirou circled the king as he continually feinted, probing for holes in Arthur's near-immaculate defense. Suddenly, the magus dashed forth, placing himself inside Arthur's guard and fending off the king's immediate counter-swing with the duplicate Galatine. Shirou dropped the sword to one hand and jumped slightly, throwing a right hook at the king's heretofore unblemished visage. The king reeled back, slightly staggered, and the magus pressed his advantage, striking a deep cut down the vertical length of Arthur's breastplate as his reward. Three long slashes to Shirou's back forced a retreat from the boy, but he nicked the servant's arm on his reversed path through Arthur's guard, a slight flinch from the king functioning well as cover for the magus' return to normal range.

The two leapt away from one another, the servant looking at the master with a complex mixture of surprise and approval in his gaze. A slight smile found itself to Arthur's face, prompting a reciprocal grin on Shirou's.

"I see that you were entirely truthful as regards your inherited skill," Arthur remarked, eyes tracking Shirou's duplicated sword.

"You thought I was lying?," asked Shirou, shifting his weight between his right leg and his left.

"Given your penchant for heroism, I would have been a fool to believe you."

 _He's got me there,_ the magus thought, faking a strike to the king's right thigh while swinging at the servant's shoulder. Arthur easily parried the feint and followup slash at his midsection, then lashed out with a kick to Shirou's chest, sending the magus flying. Shirou felt a rib creak as he desperately plunged his sword into the floor, tearing up the mat but halting his flight. He took a shallow breath as Arthur rushed him once again, batting away the oncoming Galatine as he struggled back to his feet. On one knee, Shirou deflected a series of bludgeoning strikes aimed at forcing him down once more, pushing them off kilter and rising to a standing position. Blood dripped from his forearms, their outer coating of skin partially carved off by the diverted edge of Galatine, but he pressed onward, dealing Arthur a series of scratches to the servant's sides.

Shirou grimaced. _This isn't working; I can't get through his armor._

He lost a short contest of strength to the king – the price for his failure a shallow cut to the left side of his torso – and let out a pained grunt.

 _It's time to use it._

With a thought, grey fire sprouted on the sides of Shirou's Galatine, the flames roaring forth until they formed a single, flickering coating along the weapon's edge. He didn't hesitate to watch, instead redoubling his attacks on Arthur, who took a moment to stare at the blade before frenetically parrying his master's onslaught. Shirou varied his strikes but focused in on the king's right arm, looping his furious slashes and thrusts into a targeted pattern of weak slices and anemic pokes, and finally succeeded, dredging a deep cut through Arthur's metallic armguard. The servant leapt back instantly, tossing his weapon to his left hand while in the air, and the two stared as grey flame spread around the edges of the wound. With a hiss, the fire interlinked itself, and the flame-mesh delved into the cut, burning brightly as sparks flew from the sizzling wound.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, and spoke through clenched teeth.

"Prepare yourself."

"Prepare myself for what?," Shirou questioned, before Arthur jumped to the ceiling in a blink of blue and silver, ripping the mat beneath his feet to pieces with the force of his jump. Infinitesimally later, the servant pushed off and dived with Galatine outstretched, the silver blade splitting the air with a clap of thunder. Shirou rapidly brought his weapon forth and deflected the servant just enough to survive the strike, but he felt his arm wrench unnaturally, barely keeping hold of his sword in the face of sudden agony.

"Damn it...!," Shirou let out through his pain, holding back a scream through force of will alone as the king rolled back to his feet.

The magus had no time to contemplate his plight further as Arthur _blurred_ , striking at all sides with strength and speed a magnitude greater than he'd shown prior. Shirou fell back on the desperate defensive, barely sliding otherwise fatal slashes to the side as he crouched low, granting less space for the rain of silver. Blow after blow walloped his body as Shirou turned Arthur's slashes into bludgeoning strikes, ripostes forgotten in the daze of survival. A series of glancing shots to the leg brought Shirou to his knees, but the magus refused to cede the fight, drawing prana to his limbs even as his servant sought to turn them to dust. His spine began to burn in tune with his muscles as the constant bruising turned to a haze of pain, and the magus was able to dissociate slightly, just enough to call further upon the wellspring of power invoked in the blade he'd traced. An impossibly complicated web of light wrote itself on his form before flashing off to null, tethered too weakly to remain.

His eyes burned blue, and through the hail of strikes, he built an opening in the steel pouring from Arthur. Shirou began corkscrewing his deflections, twisting Arthur's thrusts and slices to the side while feebly striking just away from the king's neck. The servant varied his attacks in turn, leaving a slight opening at the base of his skull as he blocked the magus' minor offense. Shirou poured prana into his arms and aimed directly for the hole in the wall of steel, but a perfect dodge from Arthur brought the boy's efforts to naught. The magus growled, jumping to his feet in the split second between Arthur's leap and the resumption of combat, and began a combination defense and offense, an outstretched series of pendulum swipes disorienting the king for a fraction of time.

Shirou stole the opportunity and drove forward, crouching low as he darted forward toward Arthur's waist, prompting the king to tense. At the moment Shirou thrust outward, Arthur hurdled the magus, trailing his sword below him and opening a bloody gash on Shirou's back. The magus spun, barely blocking a followup aimed at his spine, but received twin slashes far into the meat of his thighs as the price for his relative languidity. One last desperate lunge was parried by Arthur, the azure bled from the boy's eyes, and Shirou started to fall, though he caught himself by stabbing his fiery blade point-first into the mat below. Instantly, the edge of Galatine appeared below his chin.

"Do you yield?," asked Arthur, his placid expression at odds with the sword poised to slit his master's throat.

Shirou closed his eyes, allowed the fire along his sword to dissipate, and brought a small, rueful smile to his face.

"I yield."

Arthur withdrew Galatine, taking its pristine edge from Shirou's neck and storing it in the aether. The king offered his hand to Shirou, who took it, gingerly rising to his feet with the help of his servant. He turned his copy of Gawain's sword over in his hands, its steel and ceramic blade marred by innumerable scratches and pockmarks. The magus' gaze stayed on the weapon as he spoke.

"You don't need to say it; I wasn't really a match for you when you started taking things seriously. I was a fool to think I could stand by your side, and I'm an even bigger fool for being unable to shake that thought."

Shirou closed his eyes once more as a scrabbling sound came from the doorway. Arthur remained silent.

"Tell me: did I even stand a chance? Did I at least make you work for it? I know you're only even more opposed to my participation after this, but when I fight by your side, regardless, will I really just slow you down?"

The boy fell into an expectant silence, his eyes still closed and his lips still turned to a melancholy smile.

"On the contrary, I believe you demonstrated just the opposite."

Shirou's eyes shot open.

"Shirou, you engaged in a sustained swordfight with a Saber-class servant. Moreover, you matched me – nearly blow-for-blow – until both you and I brought forth the power of our respective trumps. It is true that you are not my equal, nor close to it, but you have proven yourself anything but a liability."

Arthur motioned to Galatine, its hilt still clutched in Shirou's grip.

"You fought nearly as well as that blade's first wielder ever did," the king elaborated, staring past his defeated master. "Indeed, Gawain was my superior in swordsmanship all those years ago; that I am currently his better is a function of the grail alone. He, and Lancelot..."

A melancholy look spread over Arthur's face, but he shook his head, and it passed.

"Gawain's skill aside, you possess might and potential well beyond that shown in our duel."

 _What potential?,_ wondered Shirou, but he bit back the question and let Arthur explain.

"Perhaps you do not realize its value, but you wield the same ability as I. Just as I can summon swords from my legend–" the king's gauntlet glowed grey, and Treildfigen appeared in his hands, "you hold the power to call forth an entire menagerie of weapons."

The king paused to send Treildfigen away, simultaneously glancing to the door. With a decisive nod, Arthur continued.

"With each blade comes a different ability. Whether it be purifying the corrupt—" Arthur brought Pysguread to his hands, "or slaying monsters—" Ywain's claw-blade found its way into the king's grip, "the swords of my knights have strength independent of their physical form. You yourself experienced this when bringing Bedivere's spear to bear against Lancer: the mystical power of a noble phantasm exists within the weapon itself. What others hold in strength, you hold in adaptability."

The king looked at Shirou, an expectant expression gracing his regal face. The magus scratched the back of his neck and gave a weak grin.

"I suppose that means I should actually take the time to figure out exactly what each blade I've traced does, then," Shirou remarked, finally letting Galatine go. "Since I'm absolutely drained, both physically and mentally, that sounds like a plan for the next while."

He heard a scoff from the doorway, and turned to see a distinctly annoyed Rin Tohsaka.

" _Actually_ , Emiya, we're going to have a long discussion about trusting allies, using magecraft, and keeping secrets," she said, unamused. Rin made her way into the room, glancing at the destroyed flooring before focusing a glower back on her classmate. "We can start with the distinctly not-Excalibur noble phantasm you just dismissed."

Shirou gulped. _  
_

* * *

Rin gingerly sat on one of the untorn mats, eyeing the destruction surrounding her with clear distaste. Shirou sat across from her, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably. Rin's gaze bore into him, and he looked to Arthur for help, but the king gave an enigmatic smile and summarily ignored his master.

 _What does she know? What does she suspect?,_ thought Shirou, his nerves extant as much for the upcoming dance of words as for Rin's current disapproval. _Might as well start by asking what's with her presence, I think._

"So—," he began, coughing as his voice came out slightly higher pitched than he'd prefer. "So, when did you get here, Rin?"

Rin scowled. "Early enough to see you almost get yourself killed, again. How about you explain that to me?"

"It was an attempt to prove my worth to my servant."

"Your worth? You mean your suitability for joining in on fights between servants, courting death in your pigheaded desire for heroics," Rin caustically corrected.

"What's the expression? Oh, right, 'to be a magus is to walk with death'," Shirou shot back, affecting anger in hopes of teasing out Rin's knowledge. "For someone who seems to pride herself on her magical prowess, you sure seem to have problems with that core tenet of the creed."

"'Walking with death' doesn't mean jumping off the nearest cliff, you utter moron," she responded in kind. "Teasing out the deeper mysteries of the universe is neither simple nor safe, though considering your lack of talent, it might be different for you."

 _Just a bit more,_ Shirou thought, choosing his next words carefully.

"My acumen for projection managed to impress my servant; it's a bit hard to do that without any talent."

"Your ability to summon–" Rin began, cutting herself off with a look of dawning realization. Her anger melted away, and she smirked. "Oh, I see your game. Clever. I think it's time that _you_ explain your own abilities, Shirou."

Her tone was honey-sweet, and, despite himself, a scowl flickered across Shirou's face. _Damn it,_ he thought, reevaluating the situation. _It was worth a try, but still, damn it. She obviously heard the end of our fight, but how much did she actually see?  
_

"Well, Shirou?," Rin prompted, smug satisfaction curling about the edge of her words.

 _Arthur talked about creating a wide variety of weapons, so that's definitely out there. But was she there to learn that I gained the skill of their past wielders, or to watch me almost get possessed by Gawain?_

"Shirou, start talking," she prompted again, her voice turning frosty.

 _It all comes back to whether I can reveal my one possible advantage against Archer to Archer's master, really. I'd be happy to talk about the acquired skill, but–_

"Emiya _,_ " Rin spat out, cutting off his train of thought, "explain what just happened, or I will _make_ you."

 _It's a matter of trust, then, and if so, I guess I already know my answer,_ Shirou thought, smiling lightly and opening his mouth to speak.

"Rin, what do you know about divine fire?"

"What?," she responded, obviously taken aback at the seeming non-sequitur. "What does fire have to do with your magecraft?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "Were you lying to me about only being able to perform projection and analysis?"

Shirou's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"No, no, I wasn't lying about my lack of proficiency with most magecraft. It's just...there's more to my projection than recreating legendary weapons."

"Not going to hide that anymore, I see," snarked Rin.

"In my defense, I'd only just confirmed it when you barged in on me holding Excalibur. It was a spur of the moment bit of damage control."

"Damage control?," she returned disdainfully. "We're allies, Shirou. Misleading me about your abilities could get both of us killed."

"Well, about that...," he hedged. "Before I explain further, I need to know where Archer is."

"Why?"

"Look, just trust me on this, okay? It's important."

"Fine," Rin said, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, he's out scouting for wherever Assassin and his master are lurking. He's currently–" she concentrated, narrowing her eyes, "checking around Ryuudou temple."

"Alright," said Shirou, a tinge of relief whispering over his face. He turned to his servant. "Arthur, do you mind explaining what divine fire is?"

"I see that you have indeed decided to trust Ms. Tohsaka," the king noted, a pleased smile making an appearance on his visage. "I respect your ideals on their lonesome, though I respect them infinitely more when you attempt to live up to them."

"And the explanation?," Shirou asked, sidestepping the faint blush blooming from the explicit praise.

"Of course," Arthur replied, angling his head from Shirou toward both of the magi. "I am no expert, and what magecraft I know is primarily focused on the intricacies of shapeshifting, but I shall relate that which I learned at the feet of Merlin."

 _Does that mean he can turn into an animal, right now?,_ pondered Shirou, but he remained quiet, waiting for Arthur's explication.

"Divine fire is a synthesis of magical flame and something indescribably supernal. It is an emanation of the root and what entity or entities may associate with such, twined with arcane fire into a purifying entity unlike any other. This holy flame is both weapon and shield, capable of visiting utter disintegration and protection unparalleled, and it is one of few things that can permanently incapacitate spirits such as I."

"I brought it up," Shirou added, tracing his favored longsword, "because I can summon it."

The male magus twitched his hand and the blade lit up in pale flame. Deep within himself, Shirou felt the echo of a dead man, but it was faint, well unlike Gawain's overwhelming presence. Rin stared into the fire, unmoving, as Shirou held the blade still. She reached out a hand, but hesitated and drew it back.

"How exactly...," she trailed off, seemingly unable to tear her gaze from the flickering blaze surrounding the weapon.

"I don't know, and before you ask, I can only coat weapons in it, to my knowledge."

Rin finally moved her stare from the flames to Shirou's eyes, prompting Shirou to dissolve the blade and its fiery cladding back to aether. She visibly collected herself as Shirou spoke further.

"Interesting as the fire is on its own, that's not the only strange thing about my projection. You see–" Shirou stopped as Rin held up her left hand, rubbing her temple with her right.

"Shirou, give me a second to process what you just told me. You can invoke some kind of divine magecraft, and that's a _really_ big deal," she emphasized, grimacing. "Even among the more supernaturally inclined members of the Catholic Church – the most centralized repository of information of practical theology on the entire planet – the actual ability to use divine thaumaturgy is rare to the point of near-incredibility."

 _That makes telling her about my near-possession even more immediately important,_ Shirou thought, opening his mouth to interject. "Rin, that makes what I–"

"God, even without considering what this means to the Church, what would the Clock Tower make of this? You'd be slapped in restraints and kept for study for the rest of your life," she rambled, barreling through Shirou's attempt at speech. "First summoning legendary weapons, now using magecraft connected directly to the root? _Damn it_ , Shirou."

As Rin sighed, Shirou transmitted a simple message to Arthur. _"I have to ask her whether she plans to turn me in; depending on her answer, we may find ourselves in combat. Get ready."_

 _"Understood,"_ replied the king, who surreptitiously moved to put Rin's neck in sword range. _"Let us both hope she is reasonable."_

 _God, I certainly hope she is. I don't want...ugh, never mind. Here goes.  
_

"Rin," Shirou said, catching his classmate's attention. "What exactly do you plan to do with this information? Are you going to try to capture me?"

She smiled somewhat wistfully as she answered. "No. If I weren't your friend–" a faint hint of red appeared on her cheeks –"I'd do it in a heartbeat, or at least I like to think I would. However, you're too close to me, both strategically and personally, to just hand over to a bunch of other magi. We'll have to try to use whatever connection you have to the root on our own."

Shirou breathed a sigh of relief as Rin fell silent. "Good. That's...good."

The two of them sat in silence for a time, before he spoke up again.

"You know, the reason I wanted to make sure Archer wasn't here for this was because neither Arthur nor I trust him."

"Oh?," Rin questioned. "Why not? He's acerbic, I admit, but I have yet to see him do anything overly suspicious."

"Arthur really has lost his memories of the previous war, but we think Archer hasn't," Shirou explained. "Maybe we're being overly cautious, but unlike with you, I don't gain enough from trusting him with my secrets to make the risk worthwhile."

 _And the big secret in question is a means of potentially defeating Archer,_ Shirou reflected, expecting his friend to grasp such without him having to vocalize it.

So," Rin said, arching her back. "Any other ridiculous powers associated with your projecting that you want to reveal?"

Shirou scratched the back of his neck. "Actually, yeah. I get the skills of the past wielders of those legendary weapons when I trace them. Past that, when I combine everything, I'm pretty sure I end up partially possessed by the heroic spirit whose weapon I hold."

Rin put her head in her hands.

"Once again, _damn it_ , Shirou."

* * *

A neat 5 minutes of questioning later, Rin was vocally unsatisfied, but accepting of Shirou's lack of complete knowledge. Over the course of her interrogation, her annoyance had melted through, burned away by her obvious curiosity. Shirou caught the female magus' half-hearted attempts at disguising her interest, but decided to humor her rather than antagonize the irascible girl.

"So, Shirou, do you know _why_ you have these powers?," Rin asked, folding her arms under her chest. "We've established what you can do, but do you have even the slightest of ideas as to what's letting you perform all these thaumaturgical absurdities?"

 _Rin's not going to love this, but the best I've got are suspicions,_ pondered Shirou.

"Unfortunately, I've never been great at magical theory," he replied, "so all I have are guesses."

"And those guesses are...?," Rin questioned, opening her arms and gesturing for elaboration.

"I think I'm performing the process of incarnating a heroic spirit, but inside my own body. The divine fire is probably acting as a conduit to the root and the throne of heroes next to it, and when you mix that with my gaining the skills of past legendary wielders, copies of the spirits just kinda seep through. It's the same general way the grail works, I'd assume, though I don't have the first clue about how that thing actually functions."

"While I wouldn't phrase it quite so simply, you're more or less correct about the grail, to my understanding," Rin said, placing her chin in her hand. "Furthermore, I agree with your thoughts on the mechanism behind the process of incarnation, but that still doesn't really answer my question."

"How so?," Shirou asked, peeling off the bits of shirt still left on his torso.

Rin stared for a second, a hint of red dusting her cheeks, then blinked, refocusing on her counterpart's face. "You evidently have no idea how you can summon divine fire and trace legendary weaponry in the first place. Without that knowledge, all we have is the 'what', not the 'why'."

 _She remembered my term for it,_ Shirou thought, amused, as he took his hands from his still-healing chest. _But she's right. I'm no closer to figuring this out than I was before, though the hill and sea I keep seeing almost certainly have something to do with it._

"Yeah," he said, rolling his shoulders. "If it helps, I've been getting visions of a silver sea surrounding a green hill, the latter stabbed by all the bladed weapons I've seen and am able to summon." He paused. "Oh, and to answer the obvious, I'm not sure what prompts the visions or what they mean."

Rin frowned. "It doesn't sound like any magecraft I know of; maybe it's a visualization aid of some sort?"

The female magus groaned. "I'm probably going to have to grab even more books from my house to study up on this, aren't I?"

"You don't have to–," Shirou tried to offer.

"I'm doing this just as much for the sake of personal gain as I am to help you, Shirou," preempted Rin.

"-help," he finished lamely, taking a second to process Rin's words. "Wait, what personal gain?"

Rin shook her head, a combination of mirth and pity apparent in her soft smirk.

"Only you," she said, sighing fondly. "Shirou, in your own words, the divine fire is likely acting as a path to the root. You know, the same path that the grail was created to find? The path that all magi seek through the course of their lives?"

"Oh right, that," Shirou muttered, slightly abashed.

Rin put her hand on her chin as she spoke, simultaneously closing her eyes in contemplation. "It would be nice to win the grail war, both for personal reasons and to find a much quicker path to the root. However, because you seem to have your own – presumably traceable – connection, it's of less importance."

"Personal reasons?," Shirou wondered aloud.

She gave a bitter smile. "You're not the only one whose father fought in the previous grail war. I would really prefer not to talk about it."

 _Hopefully I can get the story later,_ he thought, nodding in assent to his classmate's unspoken request.

"Well," Rin said, standing up from the mat, "I suppose you'd like to go back to cataloguing your abilities. I'll go see if any of the books I brought with me can help us figure you out."

"I appreciate it," said Shirou, who remained seating. "If you need anything from me, don't hesitate to ask, alright?"

She snorted and began to walk out of the room. "I doubt you'll be of any help, but in the event that I require something from you, I'll be sure to let you know."

As the female magus reached the door, Shirou called out to her.

"Hey, Rin?"

"Yes?," she responded, pausing at but not turning from the doorway.

"Thank you."

He caught her answering nod as she left, then turned to his watchful servant.

"Arthur, I think it would be helpful if you went and patrolled the area, but it's up to you. Let me know if anything comes up, regardless."

The king gave a small smile. "I believe I will take you up on that suggestion," he said, before etherealizing and walking through the nearest wall.

 _"Shirou?,"_ came Arthur's thought-voice, emanating from just beyond the room.

 _"What is it?,"_ the magus responded.

 _"I am proud of you."_

Shirou gave a grin, but wiped it from his face as he retreated inwards. _It's time to see exactly what I can do,_ he thought, running over the arsenal of weapons that came instantly to mind. _I guess I'll start with the weapons I got from Arthur, and go from there._

The magus began delving into himself, and he saw an array of weapons before him. Here was _Rhilltawdd_ , the virtuous sword of Balin that slew his brother Balan, and there lay _Teyrnolfod_ , the weapon of Lucan, of undying loyalty till battle's end. _Ysgrumelfa –_ the scimitar that struck the questing beast – sat next to _Fwrhylin_ , the berserker-weapon of Sagramore. _Treildfigen_ and _Maircllewr_ , _Arondight_ and _Setarfoad; Wyneidraich_ and _Pysguread, Clyfodran_ and _Galatine:_ all these weapons formed in his head, resting on the black nothing that stood between his mind and the worlds within and without.

Shirou saw their strengths, and he saw their weaknesses. He saw their knighted wielders slay those arrayed against Camelot and aid the lost and the weary. He saw battle after battle, strike after strike, and he _knew_ their power as he knew himself. From Rhiltawdd's blade of black-constraining white to Fwrhylin's explosive-laden edge, from Ysgrumelfa's pelt-clad hilt to Teyrnolfod's thrice-colored pommel, Shirou _knew_ their use, and he _knew_ their past wielders.

As he concentrated, he saw more weapons than the Arthurian twelve: there were _Kanshou_ and _Bakuya_ , and there were _Gwdynawr_ and _Gae Bolg,_ the lances of Bedivere and Cú Chullain. Here was _Excalibur_ , and–

There was a hill of green, and a sky of deep blue. A sea of silver touched the horizon, its waves sharper than water and its body quicker than the oceans of Earth. White gears turned above, flanking a glowing sheath peering down ceaselessly on the world below. Stabbed in the hill was a blade of unwrought diamond, not shaped into but rather formed in its final condition. A strand of pale fire burned in it, casting prismatic shadows on the blades arranged along the hill itself.

As Shirou looked on, a wave crested, and within it, he saw a veritable storm of swords. A pulse from the hill brought his attention to the blade at its top, as the strand of fire expanded further, and further still. Tendrils of flame danced around the edges of his sight, but the magus kept watch, seeing another letter carve itself into the hilt of the hilltop sword before a rush of red-orange and white ejected him.

Unconsciously, he whispered two words.

"Trace on."

The vision fractured with a jolt, and Shirou felt a surge of prana exit his circuits into the air around him. Slowly, in bursts of blue-violet light, the aether was teased and wrought into the blades of his vision, diminished but undeniably duplicated. They hovered about his form, each burning brightly with colored fire sourced from the primeval. _They're beautiful,_ Shirou pondered, passing his hand through the flames lighting the weapons of his mind. _And I brought them here._

He banished the weapons with a thought, and the room fell back into artificial light. Shirou noticed that the windows showed darkness.

"I should probably–" he started speaking to himself, but was interrupted by a yell and a slammed door.

"Shirou, I'm home!"

A short pause.

"You'd better have my cake!," Taiga continued, the sound of her voice growing louder as she entered further into the house.

 _Oh god, I forgot about–_ he winced, but was interrupted by another yell, this one higher pitched.

"Big brother, we're here!"

An even shorter pause.

"Hey, who're you?!," came Illya's voice.

Shirou slammed a palm to his forehead and reluctantly stood.

 _Oh no._

* * *

 **AN:** There's something to be said for allowing Shirou to fight evenly against servants. There's a lot more to be said for not making the 17 year old an overly powerful being equal in ability to lesser divinities. Not yet.

I hadn't planned on Rin and Shirou having this conversation, not until quite a bit further in, but heck, sometimes I just write and don't want to delete what I've written. Indeed, the outline of this chapter was a whole lot shorter than this.

Don't really like the last bit, should hopefully be fixed in the dread rewrite I keep mentioning. Still kept it here as is instead of further personal editing because I was getting annoyed by seeing 5700+ unpublished words.

I do appreciate the criticism of my characterization (or lack thereof). I'm well aware that it's lacking, but it's a bit tricky to deal with because of some stuff, including but not limited to: 1) the variant of third person perspective I'm using (it's very cinematic, is a way to put it, with minimum narration), 2) the plot-focused way I'm writing the story, and 3) me just not being great at the whole characterization thing. I'd say more, but that'd make this not really an author's note so much as an author's sermon.


	9. Chapter 9

Shirou entered the living room on the heels of Illya's proclamation, his muscles burning from the speed he'd put on. He stood ignored, hands on his knees and gasping for breath, as he bore witness to a battle of wills between his actual sister and the claimant to the title. Taiga's brows were narrowed, and she fingered the tiger charm strapped to her bamboo sword while gazing defiantly into Illya's red eyes. The younger girl's expression was equally challenging, if not moreso, and Shirou saw her fingers trace her silver hair from her perch atop Berserker's shoulders.

 _Illya doesn't know Taiga,_ Shirou thought with a jolt, _but more importantly, she doesn't know that Taiga is ignorant of magic. This might go very, very badly.  
_

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, attracting the attention of his exuberant teacher and gleeful sister.

"Hello to both of you," Shirou started, then turned to Taiga. "I'd like you to meet–"

"Shirou, what the hell happened to you?!," Taiga interjected. "Where's your shirt? Why are you covered in blood? Where's Saber? Who's the freaky-looking girl calling you her brother?"

He held up a hand and tried to speak, but was beaten to the punch by Illya.

"Who am I?!," she rhetorically declared, jumping gracefully off of Berserker's shoulders to land in front of Taiga. The young girl jabbed a finger in the direction of her face. "I am Illyasviel von Einzbern, daughter of Kiritsugu Emiya and Irisviel von Einzbern, and I am not freaky!"

"Well, that's–" Shirou tried again.

"There's no freaking way you're Kiritsugu's daughter!," Taiga shot back. "You're what, seven? He adopted Shirou a decade ago!"

The teacher's face turned stormy.

"Are you claiming he slept with your mother, then ditched you both?"

 _This is getting worse,_ Shirou thought, on the verge of panic.

"Seriously, please–" he ventured.

"Ha! Who would ever abandon someone as perfect as me? I'll have you know that I was kept locked away from my father by my grandfather!" Illya paused. "And I'm not seven!"

"Damn it, just let me—" Shirou pleaded.

"Look, I have an overprotective grandpa of my own, but there's a limit to how much I'm willing to believe, and you're stretching it," Taiga shot back. "And if you're not seven, how old are you? Eight? Nine?"

Shirou looked over to Berserker, who was contentedly watching the shouting match. The magus mouthed 'are you going to do anything?' at the servant, but Berserker shook his head and grew his grin a tad wider.

"I'm not lying," Illya huffed, "and I'm actually older than Shirou!"

 _Wait, she's older than me?_

"Wait, you're _older_ than him?," Taiga asked, incredulous. "That's ridiculous. There's no way that you're older than ten, much less seventeen."

"I'm nineteen!," Illya glowered.

"Nineteen?," Taiga scoffed. "How the hell can you be _nineteen_ and still look like you're nine?"

"It's because I'm a homoncu–" Illya began to explain, but was silenced by Shirou slapping his hand across her mouth.

"It's because she's messing with you, Taiga," said her brother, who sighed in relief, "and yes, hard as it is to believe, she is my sister."

Illya squirmed in his grip, but, to Shirou's relief, didn't bite or lick his hand. The male magus leaned down to speak softly in his younger sister's ear.

"Taiga – that's the name of the woman you're speaking to, she's my legal guardian – doesn't know about magecraft," he whispered. "We can talk about your claim of being older than me later, in private, where she can't overhear, but for now stick to non-magic stuff, alright?"

The girl nodded against his hand, and Shirou released her, standing up and trying to salvage the meeting. He turned to Taiga.

"As you've probably gathered, Illya here had a rather unorthodox upbringing. Do you remember when I talked about the job my dad was hired to do in Germany?"

Taiga thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Oh yeah, I do! The one where he worked with Saber, right?"

Shirou smiled.

"Exactly. The family that hired him was Illya's. While I don't know exactly how it happened, my dad fell in love with one of their family members, and my sister–" he laid his arm over her shoulder, "was the result. I'm sure she can fill in the details, but my dad spent a good deal of the past decade trying to rescue her from her grandfather."

The teacher peered down at Illya, who leaned back into Shirou's arm.

"So you're Shirou's sister, eh? You look nothing like him, y'know."

Illya opened her mouth, presumably to retort, but Taiga continued.

"Yeah, yeah, I know he's adopted. Still, you don't really look like Kiritsugu either. Are you an albino or something?"

"An 'or something'," Illya responded, obviously disgruntled, then turned to stare up at her brother. "But while I'm always happy to talk about myself, I think you had some questions for my brother. Like why he's covered in dried blood, or why he has the Anglo-Saxon rune for fire carved into his chest."

Shirou took a half-second to shoot a betrayed look at his sister, who responded with a satisfied smirk, though the girl opened her eyes wide immediately thereafter and seemed to regret her words. Before the boy could pull his own deflection, Taiga pounced on Illya's bait.

"Right, right." Taiga paused, then exploded, repeating her earlier reaction. "Shirou, what the _hell_ happened to you?!"

"I got in a fight and then tried to learn swordplay from Saber," the boy replied, internally wincing at his off the cuff excuse. _I mean, it's true, but this isn't going to go over well._

"I'm not sure whether I want the blood to be from the fight or the training," Taiga mused, circling Shirou and inspecting him for damage. "I'm going to assume it's from the former, since wooden swords don't cut."

He breathed a sigh of relief, but swallowed his impending reply as his teacher continued.

"Wait a sec. If you were in a fight, where the hell did the, uh, whatchamacallit..." Taiga crinkled her nose in thought, then smiled, snapping her fingers. "The rune! Yeah, where did the rune come from? I'm pretty well acquainted with the gangs around here, and I'm pretty sure no one's using such a simple design. I could always ask my granddad to snoop around, though. In fact, that's what I'll do!"

Shirou took a moment to process Taiga's barreling locomotive of thought, then widened his eyes in horror.

"Don't do that!," he snapped, before forcibly calming himself. "You don't have to try to find out where the rune came from."

"And why not?," Taiga asked, hands on her hips. "You're absolutely covered in blood, and while I trust you, I feel like this is one of your hero moments. If a gang beat up my brother—" Shirou heard Illya's soft growl, though Taiga appeared not to, "I'm damn well going to get payback."

 _Nothing for it, I guess. Time to lie, because the Fujimura syndicate getting involved with the grail war would be a disaster._

"Taiga, that's not what I meant. I mean that the scratch didn't come from the fight. It came from my spar with Saber."

"What? How could you be cut by–oh." Taiga frowned, then sighed, shaking her head with a mournful expression on her face. "You used real weapons, didn't you?"

Shirou scratched the back of his head and gave a sheepish smile.

"I wanted to get an accurate sense of our respective sword skills. You know as well as I do that wooden weapons work differently than steel."

"I'd lecture you," Taiga retorted, "but I know you're too stubborn to listen, and I suppose he _is_ a professional."

She paused, then tilted her head.

"Where did you get real weapons, anyway?"

"Saber brought them along with him," Shirou replied. "If you'd like, when he gets back, I'll ask him to show them to you."

"I'd appreciate it," a smiling Taiga responded, before muttering under her breath. "Maybe I'll actually be able to get a spar out of him then."

The teacher opened her mouth to continue, but an obviously annoyed Illya cut in.

"Where is he, anyway? I'm hungry."

Shirou pretended to think for a second, surreptitiously shaking his head at his sister.

"I think he said he wanted to see the town? I assume he's on his way back right now."

The male magus took a second to check in on his servant, and found the king looking contemplatively at the site of their battle with Lancer. The blackened area had been cordoned off, but aside from a man in an apron staring tempestuously at one of the charred storefronts, there was no one in sight.

 _"Hey, Arthur, would you mind making your way home? Illya and Taiga are here, and I'd really prefer not to deal with either of them while they're hungry."_

 _"Of course,"_ Arthur replied, _"but I admit to some confusion as to how you gleaned such a negative impression of your sibling in so short an interval."_

Shirou winced.

 _"Negative isn't the right word, really, but Illya has a very strong personality. I've talked with her for maybe a minute and I already have a handle on how she thinks."_

 _"And what, exactly, is this impression of Miss von Einzbern?,"_ Arthur queried, fading once more into intangibility as he began moving in his master's direction.

 _"She's very forthright. Enthusiastic. Deceptive. Definitely a bit possessive."_ Shirou paused. _"I'm not painting a very good picture here, am I?"_

 _"Regardless of whether your descriptions are accurate or not, I shall be meeting her in due course,"_ Arthur sidestepped, a light smile gracing his leonine face. _"Judging by your comments alone, however, she does sound like quite the bother."_

 _"It could be worse: she hasn't tried to flirt with me yet,"_ came the magus' sardonic response, cutting the mental conversation to the sound of Arthur's chuckling, before Shirou refocused, catching the tail end of what seemed to be another argument between his guardian and his sibling.

"–too young!," Taiga all but yelled. "Besides, I'm pretty sure he's already dating someone, and even if he isn't, there's another person with a much better claim to him than you."

 _Just my luck,_ the boy thought with a mental sigh. _Time for even more damage control._

"I didn't follow the whole argument," Shirou stated, turning to the squabbling pair, "but for the record: I'm not dating anyone right now, and I refuse on principle to date my sister."

"We'll see about that: Illya is remarkably adept at irritating others into submission."

Berserker chose that moment to interject, a wide grin splitting his face. The three non-servants spun in his direction, his prior silence leading them to dismiss the hulking man.

"Be quiet, Berserker," Illya said, a pout coming to her lips. "Some people just need more convincing than others, and the best way to convince them is to make the alternative as unpleasant as possible."

"Sure, if by 'convincing' you mean 'whining until you get your way'," the servant shot back, still grinning.

"I don't whine," Illya whined, "I'm way too well-mannered to whine."

Taiga sidled up to Shirou, whispering to him as Illya and her servant traded verbal barbs.

"So, uh, who exactly is this 'Berserker' guy? And what's with that name?"

"He's Illya's caretaker and servant," Shirou whispered back, keeping his gaze planted on his sister. "Berserker isn't his real name, but I don't actually know what it is: you'll have to ask Illya."

He paused, thinking.

"On an entirely different note, I'm going to go take a quick shower, then figure out where Rin is. By the time I'm done cleaning myself off, Saber will probably be back, and we can eat dinner."

"Oh, Tohsaka's still here?," Taiga questioned, her eyes narrowing as she smiled sharply. "Are you sure you don't actually intend to invite her into the shower with you?"

"No matter how many times you imply it, we're still not dating," a blushing Shirou replied. "I just figure she'll be hungry."

"Right, right, that's why she's apparently still over at your house, having presumably spent the entire day with you," Taiga drily retorted. "Besides, you don't need to date someone to have sex with them."

"Taiga!"

"What? You're a teenager, you should know this stuff already," she defended. "As I said earlier, just be careful to use protection."

"I'm not sleeping with her," Shirou responded, walking away from his smirking guardian before turning to his sister and her servant. "I'm going to shower. We'll eat afterward."

His piece said, the blood-covered magus trudged towards the bathroom. Taiga's laughter followed him there.

* * *

An hour and a half passed without incident. Rin, it turned out, had been holed up in her room, feverishly searching her books for any mention of divine flame. Shirou's invitation brought her and Archer to dinner, the contents of which had, to Shirou's surprise, apparently been prepared by said servant.

 _I was just going to order takeout,_ Shirou thought with a smile, biting into the blueberry pie Archer had baked. _Hopefully this satisfies Taiga, even if it's not exactly cake._

He looked across the table to his sister, whose attention was aimed solely at the two plates of dessert set in front of her.

 _Berserker could at least try to pretend to be her caretaker,_ Shirou groused internally, glancing at the hulking servant. _He seems more interested in checking out Taiga than stopping Illya from giving herself diabetes._

His mind was forced back to the rest of the table by a loud guffaw from his guardian.

"...and so I said, 'It's not my fault that he's never seen someone eat a banana before!'," the teacher exclaimed. "Of course, I couldn't resist getting a popsicle right after."

Rin sighed, a slight smile wiping itself from her face almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Listening to how you tormented your most recent ex-boyfriend is amusing, but Ms. Fujimura, is this really the time and place for it?"

A grin appeared on Taiga's face, followed shortly thereafter by a prescient look of dismay on Rin's. The woman held up a finger as she replied.

"First, we're not in school. Call me Taiga, alright? Ms. Fujimura makes me feel old. Second, would you prefer to discuss _your_ current romantic situation?"

"Again, Shirou and I are not dating," Rin responded, rubbing her temples.

"I didn't say anything about Shirou," Taiga snickered, "but please, let's hear all about your most-definitely non-romantic relationship with him."

"Why do you insist on tormenting me and Rin?," the boy in question interjected, prompting a muted, grateful smile from said girl. "It's not like the situation has suddenly changed in the last 2 hours, so what's with the repetition? Is it a teasing thing?"

The teacher laughed.

"Shirou, it's my job as your big sister—" he heard Illya let out a snarl, though it was muffled by the pie she had in her mouth "—to unfailingly mock you, your friends, and your potential girlfriends. You rarely have anyone over besides Sakura and me, and then it turns out a pretty girl from school is sleeping over at your place? It's like finding a freaking swimming pool in the middle of the desert; of course I'm going to take the opportunity to make fun of you!"

 _Well, that's annoying,_ Shirou thought, _but I guess it's understandable. I don't give her all that much to go on, heroism aside._

"Whosh Di—," Illya began, her mouth full of food. The girl swallowed, then tried again. "Who's this 'Sakura' person?"

Taiga waved the question away.

"You take this one, Shirou."

 _Way to put me on the spot,_ he grumbled, but straightened at the expectant look on his sister's face.

"Sakura is a friend of mine who comes over to help with chores whenever she can get away from her place. She's really nice, and I'm sure you'll get along well with her when you meet her," explained the magus, looking at his guests. _  
_

He turned to Taiga. "In fact, I'd have expected her to show up by now. She wasn't here this morning, either; did you see her at school?"

The teacher's face scrunched up, then lightened slightly, a bemused frown on her lips.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't. Weird. I'm sure she's alright though, she's only a year younger than you."

"I wish I had your faith; the last time she went missing for a few days, she pretty much locked herself in my bedroom, sobbing."

Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou noticed Rin's fist tightening. _I wonder why she's upset...?_

Before he could ask her, the previously reticent Arthur presented a question of his own.

"Are you aware of what might have prompted such a reaction from your friend?"

"I don't think she has a very pleasant home life, but I'd prefer not to say anything else publicly," the male magus replied, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He switched to mental communication, conversation around the table having fallen into a lull at the shift in mood. _"At least one person in her family is a magus, though I don't think she is one herself; I was never able to pass through the bounded fields around her house to determine either way."_

 _"I gather from your words that you indeed made such an attempt,"_ Arthur returned. _"At what point did you do so?"_

 _"It was around the time I broke into Rin's house, actually. My dad pointed out the various magical families in the area when he started teaching me magecraft, and I decided to take initiative. I met Sakura a few years later when I saved her from some bullies, and we've been friends since."_

 _"Ah."_ The king paused. _"On the topic of initiative, I quite enjoyed supper, but I feel that the time for merriment has passed. What do you feel is the best method of enticing your guardian to take her leave?"  
_

 _"I was thinking that you might want to take up her offer of a spar,"_ Shirou replied. _"It's not ideal, given that you'll have to miss the strategy session, but I'm pretty sure it's both the simplest and most reliable option we've got."_

A brief look of cogitation passed across Arthur's face before settling into determination. _"I am willing to accept this offer, but I require a promise from you in return."_

 _"What promise?,"_ Shirou warily relayed.

 _"In my absence, I will be unable to contribute to our plans. Moreover, I lack the means with which to forestall any of your more reckless suggestions. Thus, I beseech you: vow to consider your own well-being. Promise that you will not offer to risk your life beyond that which is absolutely necessary."  
_

 _"Because if I die, you can't make up with Mordred, right?"_

 _"Should you fall, I will lose my chance at reunition with my son, yes; however, my wish is by far the lesser reason for my imploration."_

Shirou didn't respond, his silence bidding Arthur continue.

 _"Shirou, though our camaraderie has existed but a single day, I perceive naught but virtue at the heart of your actions. Your dedication to your ideals are beyond reproach, and were you present in Camelot, I am certain you would have risen to the very pinnacle of knighthood. And yet..."  
_

Arthur's face twisted, and a pleading mien found itself atop the servant's countenance.

 _"I fear for you, Shirou. I fear that in pursuit of utopia you shall have sacrificed all that you are and hold dear. I fear that the will that has carried you to the edge of divinity shall hurl you into the depths of despair, and I fear that in seeking dreams, you shall lose hold of reality. I plea not for high-minded ideals, nor petition thus for personal gain; I implore you because heroism unchecked shall spur you to ruin."  
_

The king paused, letting his words linger in the boy's head.

 _"You have incalculable worth, Shirou. I pray you realize it, but at present, my entreaty must suffice."_

Shirou opened his mouth to break the silence at the table, then closed it, opting for silent affirmation instead.

 _"I promise, Arthur. I won't plan to risk myself unless I have to."_

The magus cut the mental connection, retreating within himself to consider.

 _I'll weigh the possibility of breaking my vow later,_ he pondered, _but I do know that Arthur's request has merit. I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  
_

The servant of the sword nodded to his master, then smiled, turning to Taiga.

"I recall that you desired a spar. Would you care to engage?"

Taiga discharged a smirk of her own as she replied, her eyes narrowed.

"I'd _love_ to."

* * *

With Taiga and Arthur off to the dojo for a spar, the remaining five spread around the table, Rin and Illya flanking Shirou. The female magi stared warily at one another as their servants looked on, Berserker with an easy grin and Archer with an unreadable expression. None spoke, each daring another to make the first move.

Shirou peered to his right, inadvertently catching Rin's decidedly judgemental gaze. He quickly looked in the opposite direction, running straight into Illya's slightly too-innocent stare before angling his face ahead, this time locking eyes with Archer. The servant pointedly averted his vision from the magus, and Shirou slumped down in his seat, letting out a quiet sigh. Across the table, Berserker rolled his eyes.

 _I suppose I'll have to go first then,_ Shirou thought. He opened his mouth, but closed it as Illya's servant spoke up.

"If no one's going to talk, what exactly is the point of this?"

The long-haired man stabbed a finger at Shirou.

"You recruited Illya and me, and I'd bet you roped in Rin and her servant as well. That means you're the linchpin of this little get-together, so I figure you might as well start by explaining what exactly you collected us for."

 _I was about to do so,_ the magus mused _,_ a tinge of sourness gracing his thoughts _, but that's as good an intro as any._

"Alright," Shirou replied, rising to his feet. "We're here to win the grail war, or at least pare it down to our three partnerships. To make that goal a reality, we're going to need to coordinate, whether it be sharing information, planning ahead, or even developing battle tactics. As such, I wanted to use this time to get an idea of what you know, then work together on ways to stay alive. I suspect that we'll all keep some things secret, especially since the servants will ideally end up facing off at the end of this, but if we play our cards right, we'll be able to get out of this in good enough shape to hold some kind of structured fight instead of the current free-for-all."

He took a quick breath, then continued.

"I suggest starting this meeting with a quick summary of each of our experiences in the grail war up to this point, most importantly our interactions with the other servants. Any objections?"

A round of shaken heads greeted his question, prompting a smile from the magus, who turned to address his sister and her servant.

"Great. I'll start, I since I've been involved in this thing for the least amount of time. I got into this whole war while fighting against Caster, who tried to kill me at school then followed me home, but before she could choke me to death, I somehow summoned Saber. Rin came over to my house to try to explain the grail war to me: we allied, checked in with Father Kotomine, and fought against you two. The next day, we went to Rin's house to pick up some books, but got split up by Assassin trying to murder us and Lancer jumping in. Saber and I then fought against Lancer, who fled, and encountered Caster performing some kind of ritual. She nearly killed me, but I was saved by Rider, who claimed his master ordered him to do so. We all had lunch, he left, and you know the rest."

"That's it?," Berserker asked, a skeptical look on his face. "Surely there's more to it than 'I almost died, but didn't', repeated four times."

Shirou frowned before replying.

"I do know the identities of a few servants, but I was hoping to get an idea of what everyone's gone through before delving into specifics."

The man's mouth twisted to a smile.

"Fair enough. I'm certain that Illya summoned me well before Ms. Tohsaka called Archer, so I suggest she and her intractable servant go next."

"Certainly," Rin took over, swiveling her head towards Illya and her servant, "though I don't have much to add to Shirou's summary. I summoned Archer three days ago. While patrolling the city for other servants, I ran into Caster just before she could murder Shirou. After Archer and I destroyed her construct, I went to Shirou's house to explain the war, not that he needed it, Saber having made an appearance by the time I arrived. We went to see Kirei, easily defeated you, and went to bed."

She paused for a moment, an evaluating expression making itself apparent, then continued.

"I requested that Shirou accompany me to retrieve a few books, but we were waylaid by Assassin, who pestered Archer and me before vanishing into the crowd. We tried to track him or Saber, and instead found an, ah, very different servant, who walked with us to my house, then here. I've been busy reading since."

 _That's not exactly accurate,_ Shirou internally corrected, _but I suspect that Rin isn't quite willing to divulge a potential path to the root, much less to an unknown._

"My turn," Illya declared, fixing her red gaze on her new allies. "Listen up, because I'll be annoyed if I have to repeat myself. I summoned Berserker back in Germany, two months ago–"

"Two months?!," Rin exclaimed. "How did you even get the grail to allow that?!"

"My family built the grail, so we know much more about it than yours, Tohsaka."

"But—!," Rin tried to respond.

"Rin, we can talk more about this later," Shirou interjected, sending a smile the way of his dark-haired classmate. "Let Illya finish her story, alright?"

A victorious smirk plastered itself on Illya's face.

"Yeah, Rin, let me finish. Anyway, after I summoned Berserker, I spent about six weeks getting to know him and his capabilities, something I almost regret—"

"Love you too, Illya," said Berserker, a slightly-taunting smile gracing his lips.

"Oh, shut up. After that, we went to Japan and started taking a look around this city. We ran into three other servants aside from Archer and Saber, but aside from a small skirmish, last night was the only time we've been in a fight."

"Which servants?," Rin asked, looking square at Berserker.

"Well there was a blue-haired guy who fought me with a red spear, so I'm pretty damn sure he's Lancer," replied Berserker. "We also met a woman with green eyes, long black hair, and a _very_ flattering dress: she was busy cutting white berries with a silver sickle. She turned down my offer to get to know each other, to my disappointment."

"You just let her leave?," Archer injected, making his presence known. "That was rather boneheaded on your end."

"I've always had a weakness for pretty women," Berserker nonchalantly replied, brushing off the servant of the bow, "but while we're on the topic of my interactions with other servants, I'm sad to say that the fight with Lancer was entirely uneventful. Just a small spar, really; I could only tell that he was a servant because of his superhuman speed and strength."

 _I guess Lancer didn't feel like revealing anything else about himself so early on,_ Shirou thought. _That's unfortunate, though I assume knowledge of runes and Gae Bolg's various abilities should go a long way towards figuring him out.  
_

"And the third servant?," inquired Rin, impatience manifest in her tone.

"Rider," came the laconic reply.

"Fine," Rin plowed ahead, "how did that interaction go, then?"

"All I'll say about Rider is that his goals are beyond reproach. It isn't really my place to speak further."

Shirou saw a deep frown pass over Archer's face, but the red-clad servant was expressionless when Shirou next looked.

"That's completely useless," Rin snapped. "Many of the combatants have noble goals—" a flash of pain on Illya's visage, vanishing in an instant — "but we'll be down to one pair in the end, regardless. He saved Shirou, so he's unlikely to be an enemy. However, he's an unknown, and him retaining that status while we fight Caster, Lancer, and Assassin is unacceptable."

"I can clarify a bit," Berserker responded, his words inflected with something unidentifiable, "Rider is not a threat to win the grail war. He's a threat to kill all of you, though I don't believe that is his current intention."

 _I don't like the sound of that,_ Shirou grimaced, opting to reenter the conversation. "If he's such a threat, why won't you tell us anything about him?"

He turned to his sister.

"Illya, do you have anything to say about this?"

The girl looked back, frustration evident in her scowl.

"I wish. Unless Berserker's been talking with Rider while I'm asleep, I've only experienced them speaking short sentences to one another, and those in a language I don't know. Rider did whisper something to Berserker when we first ran into him, but I didn't catch the content and probably wouldn't understand it anyway."

"It's rude to talk in the third person about people sitting next to you," the servant in question stated, raising his uncovered eyebrow. "I'm right here, you know."

"Yes, but you might as well not be," Rin sniped. "If you keep hiding things about Rider, I'm not sure I can trust anything you have to say, or your desire to win altogether."

Berserker shrugged, his lips curled just upwards.

"There are things more important than dreams, achievable though they may be. While I don't know Rider's plans, I do know that his aims are impeccable, and that's enough."

"For you, perhaps," Archer added, staring his counterpart in his one good eye. "For the rest of us, it certainly isn't."

"I will not justify myself to you, Archer," Berserker returned, gaze narrowed. "There is only one to whom I bare my soul, and it isn't you."

"I _hope_ you're talking about me, Berserker," Illya interjected, dubiously real indignation plastered on her overpale face. "Anyway, stop fighting. I want to hear my brother discuss what he knows."

Shirou flashed a smile at his sister.

"Thanks, Illya," he said, turning from her to the group as a whole. "I really would prefer that we not argue. While it would be nice to know more of Rider, if Berserker is willing to at least tell us if we'd get in his way, I say that's good enough."

 _Considering the alliance is liable to disintegrate if I don't defend him, I don't have much of a choice._

"Are you saying this because you believe in him, or because you feel you have no other option?," Rin asked. "Is this coming from your head, or from your heart, Shirou?"

 _I don't know,_ the male magus thought, grimacing. _I wish I did._

Before he could formulate an answer to Rin's question, Illya piped up.

"Look, Tohsaka, I don't like you. You're a rival for Shirou's love—" Rin let out an indignant squawk, coloring at the remark, though Illya heedlessly pressed on "—but, to my annoyance, you are apparently my big brother's friend. That's why I'm going to be nice, and call you a moron instead of something even less pleasant."

" _Excuse me?!_ "

"You heard me, moron. Everyone in this room has secrets that they don't want to share, but none of that stops us from working together to get rid of the other four servants. If Rider isn't an actual threat to win, we can just let him do whatever he wants to do, then kill him. Maybe it'll mean the grail war takes a bit longer, but that isn't an actual problem."

Shirou flashed a grateful smile in Illya's direction. She preened.

"I have no intention of our relationship going anywhere beyond familial, and Rin isn't a moron, but well said."

The boy turned to Rin.

"If this really becomes a problem, then you and I can try to dispose of Berserker. Until and unless that happens, we can unite to take out Caster, Assassin, and Lancer."

The Tohsaka heiress gave a humph, but nodded, mollified. Shirou grinned at her, then spun back to face all four of his allies.

"Well, now that that's settled, Rin, would you please give your thoughts on the servants you've faced up until now?"

"I suppose I should, yes."

The girl stood with a sigh, pushing her bangs out of her face as she turned towards Shirou.

"Archer and I have fought against two servants thus far, while if you include toying with your sister, we've faced three. After you fled from school, we defeated Caster and her construct, though if you are to be believed, she was instead after you, leaving an illusion behind. Either way, we destroyed her creation without too much trouble: it didn't seem all that much more powerful than its base materials."

"Why, Tohsaka, do you have a habit of breaking things?," Illya chimed in.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Rin said, "but if you're done acting your age, I'd like to continue."

Illya looked like she was about to retort, but the words retreated back into her throat, leaving a scowl behind. Rin smirked.

"Einzbern's defeat aside, the other servant we fought was Assassin, just earlier today. He seemed..."

She scrunched her features, a troubled frown replacing her prior expression.

"I can't really say. I suspect that he possesses an overly powerful form of obfuscation, though whether it's always active or conditional is beyond me. Regardless, beyond obscuring his presence, all he did was jump in and out of the crowd at us, aiming his weird scimitars at our throats. It's probably unwise to assume that all he can do is hide and swipe, however."

"Sicae, not scimitars," Shirou corrected, focusing on the image of Assassin's weapons. "Curved daggers used by various ancient civilizations in the Balkans and Mediterranean."

"And you know this _how_ , Shirou?," asked Berserker, eyebrow raised.

"I have an affinity for bladed weaponry," the magus returned. _And I'm certainly not about to say exactly how deep that affinity goes, not with Illya playing up her apparent age and Berserker keeping mum about Rider. I only wish Assassin's obfuscation didn't also include hiding the history of his blades.  
_

"Oh, you're keeping your skills secret?," Illya jumped in, a hurt expression gracing her face. "Don't you trust me, big brother? Don't you trust your little sister?"

"About as far as I can throw your servant," Shirou drily replied, a smile on his lips. "And on that note, I'd better go over the three servants Saber and I have gone up against."

* * *

"So, to summarize," Rin said, "of the three servants we know to be hostile, we know the names of two, and have a rough grasp on the power set of one. We have no idea where they're located, assuming they're taking static positions in the first place, and we can't say for certain what they intend, or indeed want overall."

She sighed, dropping back into her chair. The girl draped her palm over her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"What exactly do we do now?"

"Well, we could always just wait until they show themselves," Berserker offered, quirking a smile. "We've got three servants on our side, and neither Lancer nor Caster sound like the type to join forces."

"I agree with Berserker," came Illya's contribution. "I really don't see any obvious moves to make here, and just stumbling around searching blindly for enemy servants is beyond stupid. Let's just sit back and see what happens."

"That really isn't going to work," Shirou responded, his brow furrowed. "We can't just react, not when Caster's slowly gaining power and Assassin's probably going to be able to pick us off one-by-one. We _have_ to attack first."

Archer glared at the male magus, letting out a snort of disbelief.

"Right, because it's definitely that simple," he said, rolling his eyes. "You have absolutely no idea of who their masters are, where they're located, or what powers they have, but of course, all we have to do is decide we're going after them. They'll just show up for us to pick off, I suppose? Maybe send us a letter stating that they'll be tying themselves to an altar in Ryuudou temple, ready for slaughter?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Shirou shot back. "I'm just saying that sitting around waiting isn't likely to be a winning strategy, much less one that minimizes the amount of dead people, given that Morgan has already killed at least seven. You might not care all that much, but now, unlike whatever historical time period you're from, mass civilian casualties aren't exactly considered acceptable."

The bowman looked ready to continue the argument, but was beaten by Illya.

"Wait, why should we care about people who aren't fighting in the war, again?," she asked, a questionably real look of incomprehension on her face. "And 'civilian casualties'? You have nothing to do with the military, Shirou."

"How exactly would you know that, Illya?"

"I've been closely observing you for the past two weeks."

Shirou frowned, then carefully responded.

"By 'closely observing', do you actually mean stalking?"

Berserker coughed.

"She absolutely does, yes. Our meeting on the street was planned about four days ago, from my clothing to Illya's lines. Good fight by the way, you held up better than I expected."

"Thanks, I think."

"As fun as this conversation is," Rin interrupted, "Shirou, I think you had best explain to your sociopath of a sister why dead innocents aren't a good thing. We can learn all about her less than ethical habits some other time."

 _I'd like to figure out just how deep Illya's feelings run, personally, but Rin's right. If it comes down to Illya or non-combatants, I'm not sure I'll make the decision I want to. Still, I'd best couch this in sentimentality, rather than ethics: it looks like Illya's internalized that magus' amorality my dad told me about.  
_

The male magus nodded, then turned to his sister.

"Illya, if you've watched me over the past two weeks, you'll know that I spend my time helping other people out. It's a long story, one we really don't have time to discuss in depth, but I guess the long and short of it is that if I _can_ prevent suffering, I _will_ , no matter what it takes."

"That's stupid," Illya returned, her red gaze locked with his amber. "You're a whole lot more important than any random non-magus could ever be, Shirou. They're not worth the effort."

"Maybe they aren't, but nevertheless, I'll do whatever I can; not if it involves my death, sure, but everything up to it," he said, giving a tired smile. _I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't change who I am._

Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou saw something between misery and anger flash over Archer's features. The bowman's knuckles whitened, fists clenched, but the servant remained silent, thoughts guarded as ever.

"Hey, what's with the sudden morbidity?," interrupted Berserker. "I know we haven't exactly come up with any plans yet, but that doesn't mean it's time to talk about dying. Even if we can't really go on the attack without knowing who or where we're striking, we should still plan defensive measures."

"Thanks," Shirou said, his smile ever so slightly more relaxed.

Berserker winked, then responded in kind.

"Anytime."

"Right," Shirou said, wiping his face of emotion. "If we can't attack, we can at least find a means of defending ourselves, and that starts with knowing our plans for the immediate future."

He turned to Rin.

"I intend to attend school tomorrow, war or no war; do you think you'll be going with me?"

"Naturally," replied the girl, rolling her eyes. "I'm even staying at your home, for heaven's sake, I'm not going to just leave you alone at school."

She turned to face the third master in the room.

"That leaves you, little miss incest-lover. Do you have any particular plans?"

"I'm going to be playing with at least two of the gaming consoles I bought here in Japan. Shirou's welcome to join me after school; it's not like my manor doesn't have enough room."

"No. If he's going anywhere, he's going to _my_ house," Rin hastily returned. "I'll even be magnanimous and allow you to come over as well."

 _I'd better try to head this off,_ thought the magus.

"You know, I think—," he began, only to pause at two sets of narrowed eyes, one brown, one red. Berserker covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes crinkled.

"Stay out of it," came the twinned response, prompting the two female magi to turn to one another. After a few moments, Illya looked away, grumbling, while Rin smirked.

"My house it is."

"Sure," Shirou said, concealing a smile. "I don't really care either way, but it's good to know you two came to an agreement. What I was going to say was that we should take advantage of having three servants to juggle around. Maybe we should trade them off for the day?"

"What do you mean, Shirou?," Illya asked, her ire apparently forgotten.

"I mean that as we all seem to retain at least one command seal each, by having our servants stay around each other, we can ensure that we each get the maximum guard. If Rin and I were to be attacked, for instance, and Berserker was with us, we could both call our servants to us and fight as a group of five instead of four."

"That makes sense, but I see a bit of a problem," Rin countered. "We have two servants, while your sister has one. Unless you intend to have Archer _and_ Saber hover by her, the math doesn't quite work out."

"True, but I was actually hoping that Archer could do something else," Shirou returned, gesturing to the taciturn man. "I was thinking he could try to scout around for the three servants we need to unearth. We're not going to get anywhere by only protecting ourselves, and I would hope that wherever Illya is staying has enough defenses to compensate for only having the one additional guardian."

 _I also don't trust Archer at all,_ he noted, _so I'm not overly keen on relying on the guy to protect my sister._

Rin nodded, and turned to the servant in question.

"Archer, unless you have any particular objections, do you think you can follow this plan?"

"Of course," returned the bowman, his mild contempt plainly obvious. "The idea makes sense, loath as I am to admit it, and I'm rather certain that I'm the best scout in this clique."

"Okay," Shirou nodded, then turned to Illya and Berserker. "Are you two good with this?"

"Yup." "No objections here."

"Good. We'll talk more tomorrow afternoon; hopefully Archer will have found something by then, but for now, I'll get Saber and tell him to accompany Illya home. Once they've left, I'll show Berserker to one of the guest rooms."

"Sounds like a plan," remarked the servant in question. "I'd pretend to have expensive tastes in bedding to screw with you, but the truth is, I'm from a place where it wasn't overly unusual to sleep in a tent, so I'll just count having a bed as a win."

"You don't intend to stay up and do something productive?," Archer asked, eyebrow raised.

"Look, when you're offered a place to sleep, it's pretty rude to decline. While I could go out and try to scout around, that would force you to stay, and you yourself said you were the best out of all of us for tracking work. Then, if I'm sticking around, I might as well get some shut-eye, no? I figure Emiya here has some kind of alert system set up, so if we do get attacked, he can just wake me."

Archer gave a half-smile.

"Fair enough."

Before Shirou could use the lull in conversation to contact Arthur, he heard two sets of footsteps approach the dining room. As he turned towards the doorway, he saw Taiga, silhouetted by the light of the hallway.

"Ugh..."

The teacher entered the room proper with a groan, then turned to Shirou, stabbing an accusatory finger in his direction.

"Your dad's friend is way too good at swordfighting."

"Well, he does go by Saber. You'd expect him to be good, no?," cracked Berserker, shifting Taiga's attention his way. In the interim, a mostly pristine-looking Arthur entered the room, giving a shallow nod to Shirou as he did so.

"I don't know you, but I'm bruised, tired, and defeated. I _don't_ want to hear it."

The hulking servant raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Of course, of course."

As he and Taiga bickered, Arthur contacted Shirou.

 _"What was the overall conclusion of the meeting?"_

 _"It turns out no one really has all that much information to give us,"_ Shirou sent back, _"though Berserker knows Rider and refuses to tell us anything about him. I figured it wasn't worth blowing up the alliance for, especially as Illya's servant assured us that Rider's goals don't actually include winning the grail war, and further, that he isn't currently a threat to us."_

 _"Do you trust his word?"_

 _"I guess. Hopefully Rider leaves us alone, but I'm skeptical, especially since he knows about my abilities. We'll play it by ear."_

 _"I see. Did you decide on an overall course of action?"_

 _"Yeah. In light of our overall lack of knowledge, we'll just try to protect ourselves as best we can while Archer scouts for info. Illya and I are going to swap servants for a bit, to make sure that we can use command seals to add an ally if needed."_

 _"I am to follow Miss von Einzbern, then?"_

 _"Exactly. I'll be going to school with Rin tomorrow, and we'll all meet up again at her house afterwards."_

Arthur frowned.

 _"Do you really intend on entering such a public location while targeted by multiple servants? It seems most unwise."_

 _"Maybe so, but Rin and I frankly can't afford to miss too much school. This war is important, but it'll end eventually, and I'd rather it not completely ruin my chances of getting an education."_

 _"I suppose I cannot argue all too strongly with your desire to better yourself, and the mass of your peers should help dissuade any would-be attackers. Nevertheless, please do call for me if you are in danger. There is no worth in refusing needed aid."_

 _"I'll keep it in mind,"_ Shirou concluded, slowly bringing himself back to the scene before him. Taiga and Berserker continued to fling words at one another, while the three others in the room were in various states of annoyance, ranging from Archer's apparently normal state of disdain to Illya's frenetic squirming. _  
_

"...okay, yes, I do need a shower, but couldn't you have put it in a nicer way than 'you smell'?"

"I'm just calling it as I see it. Or smell it, in this case. It's not exactly an insult to say that physical activity makes you sweat."

"No, but—"

"Enough!," Illya not-quite-yelled. "Please just leave, I want to go to sleep."

"Alright, Illya, whatever you say," Taiga said, smiling as she sauntered out of the room. "But I won."

Berserker rolled his eyes, but the fond smile on his face belied his exasperation. He turned to Shirou.

"Alright then, you updated Saber on our plans?"

The boy nodded.

"Great. I also want to go to bed, and your friend here—" he pointed at Rin, who rolled her eyes in turn "—looks like she wants to get out as well."

 _I could use some rest myself,_ Shirou thought, suppressing a yawn. _It's been a long day._

The party dispersed, and after dropping Berserker off, the magus showered, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed. A quick thought on events to come, and sleep claimed him.

* * *

Shirou dreamed of war and love.

 _He entered the oneiric realm to a siege at dusk. King Arthur stood proud atop a mountain, a skeleton crew of men defiant in the castle behind him. He wore silver plate engraved deep with glittering gold, and he hefted a light-sucking, cross-inscribed shield in his left gauntlet, matched by a_ _ _softly glimmering_ Excalibur in his right. Below him stood an army of a thousand men, each drenched red in the blood of Camelot's allies, and between the forces lay the mountain itself, covered in corpses and speckled with the crowns of Britain's dead royalty._

 _The future servant stared hard at the forces arranged below, then gave a decisive nod. Excalibur lit in divine radiance, diamond-shaped flares of white erupting from its surface at each subsequent apex of invoked power. A thin ray of light stabbed through the darkened sky before widening, then another, and another still, until thirteen pillars of luminance drove from heaven down to Excalibur._ _ _The columns broke, the blade flared, and_ Arthur raised the sword in his right hand and brought his left to meet it, the shield Pridwen fading temporarily to null in the radiance of the weapon. Light twisted and twined around the blade until it reached to the horizon, chasing the gloaming before it until all but the sword was dowsed in shade. A beat, a whistling slash of matchless gold, and the world erupted in a dome of brightest amber.  
_

 _His vision dissolved, and returned._

 _Shirou saw himself, intangible, in a darkened courtyard. His servant stood in the growing shade of a tall oak, the twilit garden around him masking the king's gleaming panoply. His head was bowed, but rose at the sight of a woman entering the garden, the setting sun casting waves of orange and pink about her oncoming form. Her blond hair sparkled in the sun's dying rays, and the low radiance gave her green eyes an eerie glow. Crow's feet dabbed at the edges of her face, the light wrinkles subtly enhanced by the soft smile playing across her pink lips, but she possessed a sense of youthfulness to her despite her apparent age, a sway to her gait that spoke of a mischievousness often lost in maturity.  
_

 _She beckoned and Arthur followed, the man and woman each set on their path into the darkened depths of the castle. Shirou floated along beside the two as they turned through the torchlit corridors in silence, the woman bringing a finger to her lips and the man stepping gingerly to prevent his armor from clattering. The duo found their way to a bedroom, whereupon the lady embraced the king. The two blonds kissed, Arthur began to disrobe, and the scene fell to pieces around the magus.  
_

 _The mirage reformed._

 _Shirou opened his eyes again, and he beheld a throne room decorated in silken streamers of white and silver. He recognized it as the heart of Camelot, but the dual-wood throne from which Arthur reigned was absent, replaced by a grand table, heaped to bursting by food and drink. To one side stood the women, dressed uniformly in gowns of periwinkle blue; on the other rested the men, bereft of arms but lacking unity among their garb. At the head of the table sat Arthur and another, a woman with night-dark hair and_ _ _cinnamon-brown_ eyes. _

_From the grand doorway came a pounding, and the party as a whole exited the room through the opened path. Shirou followed the men, recognizing Kay and Bedivere among them, and they entered a grand hall where sat an aged man, his face exhibiting similar features to Arthur's companion. He stood and greeted Arthur warmly, gave a signal, and a rounded table appeared next to him, etched with arcane runes and topped by a weathered but hale magician. With a whispered word, the magician vanished, the table glowed, and the dream broke apart._

 _Once more, the vision flew back into a whole._

 _As the magus watched, he saw a grey stallion with a saddle and bridle of gold enter into Arthur's court. Atop the steed rose a youth dressed in purple, wielding in his hands twin spears of silver topped by steel, and twin greyhounds ran in turns beside and before the destrier. In front of the boy sat Arthur, dressed in midnight blue over silvered iron, and behind the king lingered a vast array of knights, courtiers, and servants, the whole of Camelot's multitude assembled in some manner or other. The youth knelt, his indigo-trimmed cape skimming the ground, and he spoke to the king, his tone hushed and his words fierce.  
_

 _At deliberation's end, Kay detached from the mass and brought his blade forward, prompting a fleeting smile and nod from Arthur. Five knights stepped forth, then, and the magus recognized among them Bedivere and Gawain. Two of the unknown men fell in on themselves, returning as twin eagles that soared into the open sky, while the air about the final man rippled like water, cloaking him in a veil of naught. His vassals pledged to the quest, Arthur stood, proud, raising Excalibur to heaven as his men roared. A band of light struck off the patterned blade of the sword, time ebbed to nil, and ardent sunglow blazed through Shirou's vision._

The dream burned away, afterimages of a terrible giant, a beautiful damsel, and a monstrous boar searing themselves on the canvas of his mind, and Shirou slept, dreamless, guarded in himself by quicksilver and diamond.

* * *

 **AN:** If a character acts, feels, looks, processes, and decides as if they were ten, and are biologically, emotionally, and hormonally ten, it doesn't matter if they've been on the planet for nine years more. They're effectively ten, not nineteen, for the same reason someone cryonically frozen as a baby and thawed out fifty years later isn't a fifty-year-old. Illya's a bit more complicated, and first impressions can be deceiving, but this is a fancy way of preemptively saying "no, I'm not going to put her and any other character into a romantic relationship."

I'm never a fan of pure reactivity, and so they're explicitly making plans: whether it'll actually work out for our protagonists is a different question entirely, but granting agency to characters is always good, and showing them to be competent is even better.

I'm deliberately writing the dreams in a much more impersonal style, one that comes easier to me; one reason why I'm sticking with such limited narration in the (non-action bits of the) story proper is to try to get better at writing dialogue and limited perspective. It rankles a bit, since I know full well that the story isn't as good as it can be, but hey, this is just as much for me as it is for you.

Expect new chapters at some indeterminate point in the future. The story aten't dead, and is in fact approaching the end of arc 1. 2-3 chapters to go.


End file.
